Love is a Battlefield
by LadyDarksbane
Summary: A series of interludes involving various characters from DAO and DAA. Rated M for content and language. I refuse to feel responsible for any mental damage reading this may cause :P You've been warned. A series of screenshots can be found on my profile.
1. Dangerous Liasions

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is owned by Bioware. I own nothing except Kensley's emotional instability.

**A/N**: This is an Fem!Cousland/Vaughan Kendells pairing with a bit of Alistair thrown in. Don't hate me for the pairing of this particular interlude. Rated **Mature **for explicit content and language.

* * *

**Dangerous Liaisons **

Kensley Cousland panted heavily, dropping to her hands and knees, exhausted from the battle against the fiend masquerading as a man…the man who'd become the destroyer of her perfect life on one fateful night. The clang of swords impacting armor as well as the sizzle of ozone as lightning erupted from the end of a mage's staff filled the small room, deafening the cries of the dying. Yet as Kensley crawled to the broken body of Rendon Howe, she could feel no remorse for what she had done.

_Vengeance…_

That word had lingered on her dying father's lips; had scarred her soul as she listened to the death rattle in his chest.

_Blood can only be repaid in blood._

Kensley straddled Howe's body, reaching for a discarded dagger. She raised it above her head, plunging it into his chest over and over again until her red hair and white leather armor were coated thickly with the Arl's blood. She knew she had to have looked a sight to her companions, but she was beyond caring what any of them thought.

Gentle hands coaxed her away from the bloodbath she created. She felt herself being sheltered within a pair of strong loving arms as a soothing voice struggled to be heard over the pounding rage in her ears. She fought against the bonds that held her, twisting away, slashing recklessly with the dagger.

A not so manly cry of pain followed an erratic shriek, "She…Princess Stabbity has lost her sodding mind!"

Kensley staggered about, not seeing that she'd injured the man she loved. With a shriek of her own, she collapsed back to her hands and knees, crawling away from the carnage that littered the stone floor of the dungeon. Soon she found herself in a narrow hallway with prison cells each side.

Fiercely gripping iron bars, she pulled herself to her feet, unleashing a scream of frustration before slamming her family's shield repeatedly against the stone wall of the room. When the straps that held it to her arm broke, it clattered to her feet. Kensley let out a sob. Every inch of her body ached. Her shoulder painfully throbbed from the abuse she'd heaped upon herself. For months she'd convinced herself that ridding the country of Howe's evil would make it all better. Yet satisfaction of his death tasted bitter, like ashes in her mouth. His death had not brought back her beloved mother and father. That revelation made Kensley angrier. It pained her heart even further. There was nothing to assuage her grief.

The sound of a clearing throat brought her back to reality. Her brilliant green eyes met sharply with the concerned honeyed amber orbs belonging to her lover and fellow Grey Warden, but Kensley couldn't bear to face him. "Sod it all. Get out," she screamed. "Leave me alone!"

"Kensley," his voice grated on her nerves as it came across sounding as whiny as ever. Pain and disbelief washed over Alistair's face. He'd never seen Kensley lose it like this. She was always calm, collected and driven. She had kept their little ragtag group of misfits going, no matter how hopeless and monumental their task had seemed. Torn between the desire to comfort his love and the fierceness of her command, Alistair backed away from Kensley, led away by the soft lilting voice and soothing hands of Leliana.

"So be it," Kensley whispered angrily. Let the Orlesian _whore_ soothe his hurts. Kensley needed a man _strong_ enough and _smart_ enough to fight his way through her pain to get to the heart of the matter. She needed someone who'd see through all her bravado and allow her to be the woman she'd always dreamed of being. Kensley was tired of bolstering Alistair's confidence, had grown weary of giving so much without receiving the same in return. A tiny voice deep within chastised her for her uncharitable thoughts of the man who'd been the light of her life ever since they'd begun this mad journey to simultaneously defeat the threat of the Blight as well as Teryn Loghain. Kensley squelched it, "_**So be it**_," She spoke louder, clearer.

Turning, she glanced at the cells before her. Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze collided with that of a…handsome…green eyed man with tawny brown hair. He looked so familiar to her and yet it was as if she was seeing…truly seeing…him for the first time. With their eyes locked, she stepped nearer to his cell, feeling the draw of his stare.

Kensley knew she must look a fright; her hair dripping, her usually pristine armor stained with Rendon Howe's blood. Unable to resist the siren's call of the man's virulent gaze, she pressed herself against the bars of his cell then reached a hand towards him. "I know you." she spoke softly, "Your face…so familiar."

"I'm the Arl of Denerim. I demand you release me, heathen," he snarled, batting aside her blood stained hand. Kensley hissed as pain zinged her tormented shoulder. She whimpered before withdrawing her arm, "Before I have you flayed."

"Urien died at Ostagar," she replied softly. "That must make you his son, Vaughan."

His gaze narrowed while he drank in the sight of the woman before him. Her voice, sultry and refined, caused him to pause momentarily. His gaze flicked past her to the discarded shield resting against an adjacent cell door. Recognition flared within him as he recalled the name her companion had spoken. "You're a Cousland, one of Howe's… victims." Vaughan's lips curled in a sneer.

"Yes, I'm Teyrn Cousland's daughter, Kensley. I remember meeting you six years ago here in Denerim. There was a soiree at the palace to honor the marriage of Cailan and Anora," she replied. "What happened here? Why are you in your own…dungeon?" Kensley glanced around, appalled by the horror and squalor of this place. Highever Castle had dungeons as well, but they had never felt as _wrong_ as these did.

Vaughan eyed her up and down, disliking the feelings that assailed him as he gazed into her deep green eyes. Feelings of want…want of something more than a tumble…feelings of need and desire… for more than all things carnal. He curled his lips disdainfully. A woman…_a woman_…of worth stood before, his very fate held securely in her hands. No woman should have that much power over a man. The fact that she was the last of the Cousland's explained much, though. He looked at her and could swear he saw Bryce Cousland staring back. Yet Kensley was more pleasing to behold. "Too many of our troops were lost at Ostagar. When the riots started, Howe came with men to reinforce the garrison here. Or that's what he claimed. As soon as I let him into the palace, he threw me in here. 'One more victim of the elven uprising,' he said. Let me out, dear lady. I'll do anything."

Kensley smiled widely, looking like the cat that ate the canary. At first she ignored his plea. "You'll be pleased to know that Howe is dead. Your arling is restored to you. I'll gladly give you that, especially since we have both suffered at that viper's hands. You should feel fortunate that Howe didn't murder you like he did my family." She backed away, inserting the key in the lock of his cell. As it clicked, she sighed wistfully. "You need not do anything for me, Vaughan, except lend me your voice at the Landsmeet. Help me speak out against Loghain and I will be forever in your debt. We are kindred now, victims of circumstances not of our making."

A smarmy look graced the face of the imprisoned man. He rubbed his hands together, eyeing her hungrily, "Of course! Anything for you, just let me out!" Vaughan's lips twisted into a caricature of a smile. The lock clicked then the door swung open. Vaughan dashed out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind him. He reached for Kensley, unceremoniously hauling her into his arms before he pressed her against the bars. "Don't make a sound. Be a good little bitch and I'll leave you relatively unharmed."

"I love a forceful man, Vaughan, but this isn't necessary," Kensley murmured in his ear as her legs wrapped around his waist. She could feel his hands tearing at the buckles that held her white leather together; could feel the heat of his body searing her through both layers of their clothing.

Their coupling was fast, furious; beholding the intensity she'd always craved in her men. His thrusts pummeled her, slamming her against the iron bars. Kensley reveled in the brutality, raking her nails down Vaughan's linen clad back. She nipped at his neck, ears, and the meat of his shoulder. She took everything he had to give then demanded more. When their passions were spent, Vaughan released her. "I needed that," was all he said as he righted his clothing then walked away with nary a glance backward.

Kensley slumped against the bars, willing her trembling legs to hold her upright. In her thoughts, she echoed Vaughan's words. She had needed something that fierce as well. She grinned, knowing she had gotten the best of the Arl of Denerim.

* * *

The door to the Landsmeet Chamber stood before them. Kensley reached for the handle then glanced over at Alistair. He nodded to her. Kensley threw it open, boldly marching through the throng of assembled nobles until she came face to face with Teyrn Loghain. Her gaze remained solely fixed on Loghain while Eamon's voice commanded the attention of the Banns. "My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet, Teyrn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear! _**He**_ placed us on this path, yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?"

Grumblings throughout the gathered lords followed Eamon's impassioned speech only to be brought up short by Loghain's mocking applaud. "A fine performance, Eamon, but no one here is taken in by it. You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is, 'Who will pull the strings?' Ah! And here we have the puppeteer… as bold and brazen as she pleases."

Kensley's eyes narrowed at Loghain's contemptuous smearing of Eamon and Alistair. She bit her tongue for the moment, waiting for the right moment to speak, waiting for her anger to dissipate, waiting for a clear frame of mind to prevail.

Loghain gestured wildly as the filth of his words spewed forth from his lips. "Tell us, Warden: How _**will**_ the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? What did they offer you? How much is the price of Ferelden honor now?"

Kensley's eyes flashed murderously. "You are one to speak of honor, a man so mired in the past that he wiped away any chance of a future for your beloved Ferelden. You have forsaken yours. After all, _**I**_ am not the one who betrayed Ferelden. _**I**_ am not the one left our King to die…to face that horde alone."

Arl Bryland voice rang clearly above the hubbub of shocked murmurs, "Some of us are curious, Loghain, about precisely what happened at Ostagar."

Then Bann Ceorlic rudely interrupted, "Do continue, Warden. The Landsmeet hungers to hear the tactical analysis of Ostagar from a spoiled child."

"A spoiled child, am I, Ceorlic," Kensley scoffed at him. "I will have you know that my father, the late Teyrn Cousland, taught me the ins and outs of battle as well as diplomacy. It was my father that Cailan entrusted in his dealings with Orlais. Our beloved King Cailan and Empress Celene had put aside the arguments of the past and came to an agreement concerning the threat of the darkspawn. Empress Celene was merely waiting for a response from Cailan. I have proof of these dealings within these documents recovered from the royal arms chest at Ostagar. We as Ferelden's no longer have to fear Orlais. The Blight is the true threat." She threw the papers she had nestled securely around the newly mended straps of her family's royal shield at Loghain's feet, watching as he swiped them up.

"There are enough refugees in my bannorn to make the Warden's claims abundantly clear," Bann Alfstanna called out.

"We've been treated to many stories of darkspawn in the past few weeks, but we still have no evidence this is a true Blight," Ceorlic piped up followed by the growl of Arl Wulff's gravelly voice, "If it's a story, it's a true one. The south is fallen, Loghain! Will you let darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?"

"How fortunate you've been in the field with Loghain, Ceorlic, for had you been in Lothering, in your bannorn, you would've already been wiped off the map," Kensley retorted. "Lothering fell to the darkspawn horde. There is nothing left there. I have seen it with my own eyes. Blackened putrid despoilment as far as the eye can see…and that is only the beginning if we continue to ignore their threat."

"The Blight is indeed real, Wulff. But do we need Grey Wardens to fight it? They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of chevaliers. And once we open our borders to the Chevaliers, can we really expect them to simply return from whence they came? You led our king to his death with your grandiose tales of griffons flying into battle. Warden, Cailan was Maric's son. Had there been _**any**_ chance of reaching him at Ostagar, I would have fought to my last breath to save him. But was I to sacrifice thousands of other lives when I saw that hope was gone? You Grey Wardens with your stories of valor… stories of heroic single-combat with archdemons… you made Cailan believe war was an easy matter of riding out in his new armor and collecting a victory that sat ripe and waiting for him. You goaded him into making that charge! He _**believed**_ the tales, Warden! He thought that your handful of men would turn the tide for him, strategy and consequences be hanged! So I ask you again, what would you have me do? Cailan's was not the only life in my hands. Should I have sacrificed the entire army for his mistake? Do not imagine you can shame me with Cailan's death. He was Maric's son. My king. No one regrets his loss more than I do."

"You speak as if it was I who personally is to blame for Cailan's actions at Ostagar. Yet I have witnesses who can speak against those claims. I spoke to you, requested an audience with you, that fateful day… the day of my arrival in Ostagar. I wanted to reach out to the great Teyrn Loghain, a teyrn like my deceased father, a hero in my eyes. Yet upon that meeting, I found myself sorely disappointed. There before me stood the shadow of the great general my father had always spoken so highly of. We spoke of the fall of Highever. I knew by the tone of your voice that you knew more than you let on. All along you were in cahoots with that snake masquerading as a man. All along you turned a blind eye to the faults of the man you made the Arl of Denerim and Teyrn of Highever. You turned a blind eye to fact he was murdering, imprisoning and torturing innocents to cover up the truth of your actions at Ostagar."

"The Warden speaks truly! My son was taken under cover of night. The things done to him... some of them are beyond any healer's skill," Bann Sighard interjected furiously.

"When I rescued Bann Sighard's son, Oswyn, from Howe's torture chamber, he told me a curious tale of his wet nurse's son, who had been at Ostagar. Oswyn claimed his friend told him that his unit was ordered to turn their backs on Cailan at Ostagar... _**before**_ the darkspawn overwhelmed him just shortly after the beacon that Loghain was supposed to respond to was lit. The next day, Oswyn's friend disappeared. When Oswyn went to search for his friend, he was met with the offer of a poisoned chalice and therefore, ending up at the mercy of Howe."

"Howe was responsible for himself. He will answer to the Maker for any wrongs committed in this life. As must we all. But you know that. You were the one who murdered him."

"Silence!" Kensley exclaimed as she brought her hand up, backhanding Loghain across the face to punctuate her fervent command. "How dare you defend that snake in the grass after he murdered Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland, my parents, in their home! How dare you make light of my father's dying wish for vengeance. My father lay dying in a pool of his own blood and beseeched the Warden Commander of Ferelden to take his wife and daughter to safety. I am a Cousland. We always do our duty. My duty was to visit vengeance upon Howe. But no more of my grievances against the man.

"There are other's here who has suffered at the hands of Howe's treachery. Tell me, Loghain, how do you justify naming Rendon Howe the Arl of Denerim while Arl Urien's son still lives. I found Vaughan Kendells locked away in the dungeons of his own estate. Locked away. Left to rot." Kensley turned her gaze to Vaughan momentarily pointing him out to the assemblage. "He is testament to your crimes."

"Too many of my father's troops were lost at Ostagar. When the riots started, Howe came with men to reinforce the garrison here. Or that's what he claimed. As soon as I let him into the palace, he threw me into my own dungeon. 'One more victim of the elven uprising,' Howe stated," Vaughan spoke up, repeating what he had told Kensley previously. "The Warden released me."

"Whatever Howe may have done, he should have been brought before the seneschal. There is no justice in butchering a man in his home." Loghain Mac Tir replied dismissively.

"No? Then why did you send a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon?" Kensley retorted smugly. She had him…had him right where she wanted him.

"I assure you, Warden, if I were going to send someone, it would be my own soldiers. I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate."

"Indeed? My brother tells a very different tale. He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry's justice. Coincidence?" Bann Alfstanna cocked an eyebrow.

It was then that Denerim's Revered Mother, Elemena, chose to lend her voice. "Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain. Interference in a templar's sacred duties is an offense against the Maker."

Kensley cleared her throat. "Tell me, is there justice in selling elves to Tevinter? Snatching them from the Alienage under the ruse of Tevinter mages curing the plague that you and Howe unleashed there." The slaver documents implicating the Teyrn joined Cailan's secret correspondence at his feet.

A cry of disbelief erupted from Bann Sighard. "Selling elves? Explain this, Loghain. Do you place no other value on life besides the gold who can gain from it?"

"This is war. Did you believe it would be like the old tales: knights with pennants flying over battlefields where all outcomes are decided simply and with honor? War is cruel. Every soul who fought alongside Maric knows this. And in it, there are no such things as innocents, only the living and the dead, and the degrees of guilt both bear. Sacrifices were made. If they were too great, the Maker will judge me for it. But enough of this. I have a question for you, Warden: What have you done with my daughter?" The General paced back and forth, still grandstanding while the Grey Warden stood her ground.

"What have I done? I've protected her from you. It's what We Grey Wardens do, protect the innocent from threats of tyranny."

"You took my daughter-our queen-by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?"

The room hushed, a silence so deafening Kensley could have sworn she could hear a pin drop, as Anora gracefully strolled into the chamber. "I believe I can speak for myself. Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me. My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane. This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your king as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not reveal his treachery. I would have already been killed, if not for Kensley Cousland."

"Anora speaks the truth," Kensley added, feeling in her gut that she'd truly made the right decision in trusting the queen.

Loghain let out a heavy sigh, "So the Warden's influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora? I wanted to protect you from this. My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself."

Kensley held her tongue. She didn't know what else she could say to persuade the Landsmeet to side against Loghain. She just hoped all the evidence she'd brought forth against the Teyrn bore fruit. She found her faith reaffirmed as one by one the nobles spoke up. Alfstanna, Bryland, Sighard, Vaughan, Wulff and two other nobles whose names she couldn't rightly remember all sided with the Grey Wardens. Only Bann Ceorlic had spoken for Loghain. Pride surged through her. "The Landsmeet is against you, Loghain. Step down gracefully."

Incensed, Loghain glared at her before turning his attention to the nobles who'd allied themselves with the upstart Cousland brat. "Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us once, Eamon. You cared about this land once before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!"

Members of Loghain's guard spilled into the Landsmeet chamber. Kensley shook her head before speaking. "Call off your men and we'll settle this honorably."

"Then let us end this. I suppose we both knew it would come to this." His voice calmed, his demeanor resigned. "When we first met at Ostagar, I would never have thought so. But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else. A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me. Enough. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel."

Bann Alfstanna nodded at the pair before her. Her voice took on a formal tone, "It shall be fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome."

"Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?" Loghain challenged.

"Of course I'll fight this duel myself. You don't stand a chance, old man. I'm younger, quicker and I fear death not." Kensley accepted as she strapped her family's battered shield to her arm.

"It is you or me the men will follow. So let us fight for it. Prepare yourself."

Kensley watched as Loghain drew his sword. They circled each other while the nobles cleared out of the way. Drawing her family's sword from the scabbard at her hip, she thanked the Maker for the enchantments she'd had Sandal Feddic weave onto it. For all her bravado, the Teyrn remained a warrior of legend. She knew she'd need every advantage she could get. The year which had passed since Ostagar, the year spent fighting darkspawn, werewolves, abominations and insane cultists, had honed the battle skills she'd learned from her father.

She unleashed her war cry, rallying her courage, then brought her shield up to defend herself from Loghain's first brutal strike. Then with a shield bash firming smashing into Loghain's chest, she whirled her blade about in an all out assault, striking him viciously until the stain of blood coated the weapon.

First blood had been drawn. A weak point in the General's gleaming silverite armor had been located and exploited. Startled gasps echoed through the crowd. Kensley took a hard hit to her upper chest and shoulder, snarling through the pain as her heavy Warden Commander armor absorbed the brunt of the blow. She could feel her own blood flowing from the wound. She stumbled but recovered quickly, pummeling him relentlessly. Her blur of her blade complimented the steps in her dance of death, a symphonic ballet of precision striking and exquisite beauty.

Soon the General of renown found himself panting heavily, dropping to his knees before her. "I underestimated you, Warden. I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war. There's a strength in you that I haven't seen since Maric died. I yield."

Kensley's smug laugh of satisfaction filled the chamber. She circled him, halting directly behind him. As he made a motion to turn, she straddled his back and gripped a hank of his hair, yanking his head back to expose his unguarded neck. Drawing a special dagger, one coated with Crow poison, gifted from Zevran, she quickly and efficiently slit his throat before throwing his body to the floor.

Anora cried aloud as she tearfully covered the body of her fallen father. Kensley ignored her, blocking out the stunned or outraged gasps and grumbles from the assembled nobles. She leveled an angry glare upon Eamon, silencing the older Arl as she dashed to the throne, seizing the crown which sat upon a silken pillow. She knew this wasn't the time or place for a formal coronation, but nevertheless it was symbolic as a new age of sorts was ushered in.

Returning to Alistair, Kensley went down on bended knee before him and Anora as well. "Your Majesty, it does me great honor as victor of the Landsmeet to bestow this upon you. I, Kensley Cousland, following in the footsteps of my esteemed father, grant you both the throne of Ferelden, provided you hold to the oaths you spoke to me, marrying in order to rule jointly."

"We do!" Anora proclaimed loudly. "I believe this is what King Maric wanted, to see his blood tied to my father's to begin a new line of Fereldan kings."

Kensley placed Alistair's crown on his head, "The Landsmeet awaits you to address them, my king."

With a nod to Kensley as well as Anora, Alistair marched forth. "I-I did swear an oath. What I mean is, I'm-I'm all for founding a new line of kings, but... well, there's the Blight..."

Kensley groaned, nudging Alistair before hissing at Anora to save the floundering new king. "What the king is trying to say, my lords and ladies, is that he will be taking the field with his fellow Grey Warden to do battle with the archdemon. Until then I will remain in Denerim and rule in my husband's absence, as I did for Cailan, but I trust Alistair shall reach a more heroic ending." Anora's smile gleamed brightly, though Kensley could see the pearl of anger glittering in the queen's big blue eyes. "As queen, I appoint Kensley Cousland as the general and leader of our armies. Gather your forces and await her command. On the morrow, we shall begin our struggle against the greatest threat Ferelden has ever faced. And we shall triumph over it, for we _**are**_ Fereldan!"

A huge roar of applause erupted through the Landsmeet chamber. The future was secure and their eyes were set firmly on defeating the greatest threat to their nation. Kensley sighed pensively as a ripple of victory surged through her. It was almost as if she could feel her father's pride for her shining through her. He would have been so proud of "his fierce girl."

* * *

The nobles had cleared out, leaving behind an empty chamber. Kensley strolled through it, mulling over what had happened in her head. She knew Alistair and Anora had accompanied Eamon back to the elder Arl's estate. She had promised Alistair she'd be along shortly. There was a matter of importance she truly needed to discuss with him. She couldn't imagine the kind of future they could have together. So lost in her thoughts as she gazed unseeingly at the throne, Kensley didn't hear the footfall on the stone floor behind her nor did she notice the approaching form until it settled in behind her, touching her shoulder. She let out a scared shriek before rounding to see who'd touched her. Part of her had expected it to be Zevran, but to her surprise and delight, her eyes collided with those of Vaughan Kendells.

"You startled me, my lord," Kensley smiled at him brightly. It pleased her that _he_ had sought _her_ out. She hadn't seen him since she'd freed him. Being a teyrn's daughter, she knew it was he who should greet her with the formality of 'my lady', but Kensley figured a man like Vaughan would appreciate her appearing the lesser.

A self-satisfied smile crossed his face. Kensley knew she had been right, knew she'd have him eating out of her hand in no time. "No need to stand on ceremony, Kensley," he replied smugly before he reached for her hand. "I have need of your presence at my home. There is a matter of personal security I wish to speak to you about. You simply must attend me."

_Oh, he has no real clue __**who**__ is really in charge_, she mused to herself. "I would be _delighted_, Vaughan."

He held out his arm to her, "Shall we?"

It was a short stroll from the palace to Vaughan's estate. He immediately escorted her to the master bedroom, the one which had been his father's. "You have no need of that bulky armor of yours. Remove it and be quick about it," he demanded.

"I like a forceful man," Kensley purred, making haste unbuckling the various straps which held her armor together. She threw the discarded pieces to the stone floor until she stood before him in the royal blue undertunic and form fitting breeches.

"Is that why you've set yourself up as Maric's bastard's lover? I know all about you, Lady Cousland." The fiendish grin which graced his lips would surely put any demon to shame. "With your background, though, I'm surprised you didn't set yourself as queen. A rather curious question, that is."

Her eyes flashed at Vaughan's words. He knew nothing of the Wardens, obviously. Alistair would need an heir, but with the taint in both of them, conceiving said heir was next to impossible, "Alistair 'tis not my lover any longer. 'Twas an agreement I made with Anora. She wouldn't marry Alistair with me still in the picture. Let's not speak of such matters when we have so many other delightful things we could be doing."

Fiercely gathering her in his arms, Vaughan kissed her. Words failed under the onslaught of Vaughan's lips, tongue, and teeth. Kensley let him lead her to the bed, where she wrapped her arms around him. Her tongue tangled with his and stroked against the roof of his mouth.

He groaned, and she rubbed against his body, needing more contact with his heated form. His hand rose to cup her breast while his thumb flicked across her nipple, hardening it instantly. She whimpered against his lips, and he pressed her back into the mattress, covering her with his weight.

Vaughan stopped kissing her and sat up. She whimpered at the loss of pleasure. He took her face in his hands, "Strip." Kensley obeyed immediately. She opened her eyes and met his startlingly emerald gaze. She desperately needed to feel Vaughan's passion. She refused to let herself think of anything else as she grabbed hold of him, pulled him back to her, crushing his mouth with hers.

He groaned, grinding his hips against hers as her hands slid over his shoulders and her nails raked his back. Vaughan tasted like heat and security and raw pleasure. She couldn't get enough of him. His fingertips skimmed over her soft flesh. The warmth of him felt wickedly sensual against her naked skin. He grasped both of her nipples, squeezing and tugging simultaneously. Her back bowed; Kensley squealed. Bolts of pleasure shot straight down to her pussy.

Vaughan then immediately replaced one of his hands with his mouth. The rasp of his tongue against her hardened flesh made her whimper. When he scraped her nipple with his teeth, starbursts of pleasure exploded in her head. Her hands slid down his naked back until she encountered the waist of his pants. She slipped her hands underneath, reveling in the feel of his warm, hard buttocks. She shoved frantically, trying to push them down. He quickly removed them, making himself as gloriously naked as she.

Kensley couldn't resist, reaching between them to touch his cock. The deliciously hard column of flesh was so thick she could barely get her hand around it. Maker, she longed to feel him stuffed inside her once more. She couldn't wait.

"Fuck me, Vaughan." She gasped as she stroked him from cockhead to balls. "Fuck me now."

He flashed a smile that any demon would envy. "You're not hot enough yet."

Kensley cursed, protesting, "Sod it all! If I get any hotter, I'll explode."

He pulled back, forcing her to let his thick shaft go if she didn't want to hurt him. Then he gripped her wrists and stretched them over her head. Hot cream slipped from her body to dampen the sheets. She had always loved it when her lovers she'd had before Alistair held her down, but she felt like asking for it ruined her 'fierce girl' image.

Suddenly, he let go, gripping her behind the knees and shoving her legs wide. His gaze riveted on her pussy. She intended to reach for him, to guide his hot mouth right where she wanted it, but her arms wouldn't move. What the sodding hell?

"I've had you restrained with magic," he murmured, diabolically.

"What?"

"You heard me. Magical energy employed to hold you down," Vaughan chuckled lasciviously.

Instinct took over; Kensley struggled against her invisible bonds. Her body bucked, she tried to jerk her arms down to no avail. She would have sworn shackles enclosed her wrists, locking them to the bed.

Vaughan grasped her hips and forced them back to the bed, "Now to have some fun."

He traced a path through the wetness that soaked her whole pussy and then pushed two fingers inside her, parting her easily. She moaned and ceased her struggles.

His hot breath fanned against her wet lips. "You like being at my mercy, don't you?"

"Y-" Kensley couldn't even get out the single word, because Vaughan swiped his tongue along the path his fingers had taken. When he sucked her clit into his mouth, she screamed.

The intensity of the pleasure made it feel like delicious pain, "Mmmm... Now you're hot enough to explode." Vaughan licked her again and then set to devouring her, using lips, tongue, and teeth in a way that made Kensley more certain than ever that he was a desire demon in disguise. Not even the magical restraints were as surprising as a man who could worship her body as if she were Andraste reborn.

She desperately wanted to fist her hands in his hair and hold him in place. And yet, being totally under his control inflamed her. It gave her license to simply enjoy every lick and bite. She felt her orgasm gathering. She reached for it, arching her hips up; thrusting her pussy at Vaughan's warm, inviting lips. But just as she tensed to go over the edge, he released her and sat back on his heels, "Bastard!"

Vaughan laughed. "It will only be better for the wait."

"Damn it, Vaughan, I don't want to wait."

He came over her, bracing himself on his arms. His cockhead brushed her swollen clit, "Neither do I."

She moaned and lifted her hips, trying to force him into her. "Please." She was beyond caring how much she begged. She had to have him, or she would die. He entered in one long thrust. She gasped and fought her bonds once more. He flashed his evil smile, and his eyes flashed with emerald sparks. Then he pulled out, inch by agonizing inch, slower than she would have thought possible.

"Faster," The words came out as a growl.

"You're under my control. Remember?"

Her traitorous body clenched as his words made her want him all the more. She closed her eyes and tried to distance herself from the pounding need between her legs, but as he held himself poised at the entrance to her body all she could think about was the need to be filled.

"Tell me what you desire, _whore_."

"Sod off."

"Then you'll wait for it." Why did he insist on humiliating her, degrading her? He smiled again, flexed his cock, making her bite her lip to hold her moan in. Then she felt something hot and satiny slide against her nether lips. The feeling made her shiver. She glared at Vaughan. "Please?"

He surged into her, filling her with a quick brutal thrust. She screamed, arching spasmodically, her head falling back, his invasion stoking the whirlwind of pleasure he stirred in her. When he started to pull out with agonizing slowness again, she thrust her hips up, forcing him to sink into her again, "More, damn it. Give me more."

He wrapped his hands around her hips and pinned them to the bed. "I'm in control, not you." Over and over Vaughan thrust deep and then withdrew, inch by inch, as if caressing her insides. She felt wild, crazed. She'd completely lost control of her body's response. She tried to thrust against him, but he held her tight to the mattress. She struggled at the magic binding her arms, thinking if she got him hot enough, he might be unable to hold her. But he remained calm and cool, never faltering in his rhythm.

Sod it all! Why wasn't he as frantic as she was? She was coming apart, another piece coming unglued with every thrust. She felt the wildness in him. He'd locked it away, but she knew it was there. If only she could figure out how to release it. He'd be consumed by the storm, and she'd get the hard, fast fucking she needed.

"Vaughan, I want it rough. I want to feel your hard, thick cock slamming against me."

He groaned, and she smiled. "You want it, too. I feel it in you." He tensed, but he didn't increase his pace.

"Damn it! Fuck me, Vaughan. Really fuck me."

He snarled. "No, you'll take it like I want you to."

She wanted to cry. Her body screamed for release. "I need to cum, please. I need it hard."

"No, you don't. You're on the edge right now."

"I -" She realized he was right. She hung on the edge, ready to fall, but she didn't want it to end like this, she wanted him as frantic as she was, "Maker's mercy, Vaughan. Please. I need it. Give me what I need."

His pace increased slightly, just enough to end her torture, but not enough to be the rough animal fuck she begged for. Kensley couldn't hold back anymore. Her clit tightened, her body convulsed. Shock waves of pleasure radiated all the way to her toes.

Vaughan released her hips and pulled out of her. She whimpered, wanting more even as she lay exhausted from her climax. He took his cock in his hand, jacking it furiously. She gasped. Dear Maker, he was going to come all over her. The thought sent heat spiraling through her body, making her want him all over again. She watched, transfixed. His eyes fell shut and his face shuddered. Then his entire body stiffened, and hot, creamy cum splashed against her breasts and belly. "Now get out, _whore_." Kensley felt the magic dissipating, releasing her from his hold. She didn't wait to be told a second time.


	2. Love's Sacrifice

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age belongs to Bioware. "My Sacrifice" belongs to Creed and the excerpts of "Do not go gently into that good night" and "And death shall have no dominion" were both written by the great poet Dylan Thomas.

**A/N:** This is an Fem!Tabris/Alistair pairing. Sorry this one doesn't have a happy ending.

* * *

**Love's Sacrifice**

~_Hello my friend/We meet again/It's been a while/Where should we begin?  
Feels like forever/Within my heart/Are memories/Of perfect love that  
You gave to me/Oh, I remember/When you are with me/I'm free, I'm careless  
I believe/Above all the others/We'll fly/This brings tears/To my eyes  
My sacrifice_~

The King of Ferelden stoically stood before the small crowd gathered in Redcliffe village. On the surface, he was everything that a King should be…noble, heroic and steadfast in his determination to see his land recover from the Blight which had nearly destroyed everything he held dear. Yet those who truly knew him knew that on the inside Alistair was anything but what he appeared to be. Grief, anger and regret had set in once more one hundredfold worse than what he had endured when he lost Duncan. It was a black cloud hanging over him. There would be a time and a place to grieve for the one he loved more than anything. The King knew that, even if Alistair refused to comply. The King of Ferelden would stand strong, carrying out his duty as he knew he must.

This day his duty was the memorial service for the one who had done so much, sacrificing everything she was to stop the Blight…the one who had so valiantly lead the charge against the darkspawn siege of Denerim. The same woman who had ignored his heartfelt plea, bashing him in the head after tricking him with one last kiss…but oh what a kiss it had been…making it impossible for Alistair to do the right thing by sacrificing himself.

Alistair gazed down upon her in gentle repose. It was almost as if she were sleeping. He almost expected her to wake up at any time now, but that was not to be. He then cleared the lump that had formed in his throat, noticing the nod Eamon had given him. The memorial was about to begin. His heart broke anew, knowing this would be the last he ever saw of her.

"My friends, we are gathered here to pay our respects to Vala Tabris, the Grey Warden that saved us all. She gave her life to destroy the Blight, a sacrifice we must never forget. It was no accident that she was there, either. She was special, and each of us has had our life touched by her in some way. I... I thought we would be together forever. There isn't another man alive who loved her the way I do, the way I always will. She put me on this throne, and showed me how important it was I be here, despite my protests. But there was no telling her no, right? She didn't choose to be a Grey Warden, but she still went to her death willingly. The Grey Wardens couldn't have asked for anyone finer. How do you properly honor someone like that? The Grey Wardens are building a magnificent tomb at Weisshaupt, right next to Garahel's, but I'd like to do something as well. Cyrion, please step forward."

The assembled crowd watched as a dark haired elf came to stand before King Alistair. His craggy face showed deep lines of grief while his blood-shot and swollen eyes were a clear testament to the tears he'd shed for his fallen daughter.

"You are Vala's father, are you not? We had some difficulty finding you," Alistair remarked, meeting the eyes of the man standing on the other side of the stone sarcophagus that Vala rested upon.

Cyrion sighed heavily, "Things in the Alienage are chaotic. Help has been... slow to arrive." How could this human king know how bad things were for his elven subjects? Yet Cyrion knew this was not the time to open that can of worms.

"I'd like to change that. The Alienage will have its own ruler, who speaks in the Landsmeet as an equal. I'd like that to be you… the first bann of the Alienage, if you're willing."

Cyrion's hand flew to his chest. He could barely believe what he'd just heard. "My lord, I... don't know what to say!"

Alistair gave a small smile. "I wish your daughter were still here to fill the role herself. As it is, it's just a start. I promise you that." Reaching down to his feet, Alistair retrieved a worn leather pack. "This will also help. Inside are your daughter's worldly belongings, including a small fortune she amassed during our journeys in the last year. I know she would want her people to have it. She often gave all she could to help the less fortunate."

Cyrion accepted Alistair's offering graciously. "When Vala returned to the Alienage after being gone for that year, I said some harsh things to her…things I wish I could take back. It's been hard to forgive her for her actions. She left Shianni to suffer at the hands of Vaughan Urien, knowing full well what that man would do to her. The offer of forty sovereigns was more important than her family. To top it all off, when she was conscripted into the Grey Wardens, she let Soris pay for her crimes. I told her she wasn't welcome in my home, that she was no longer my daughter, even after she'd saved me and many others from slavers. I was still angry with her because she seemed to show no regret for her actions. Those were my last words to my daughter and now here she lies. I'll never be able to say I'm sorry or tell her just how proud that I am of her. She was so very much like her mother."

Alistair knew the man before him grieved for Vala as much as he. "I spent nearly every day of the last year with your daughter. Let me tell you that she very much regretted her actions, despite the fact that she didn't show it outwardly. There were many nights she cried on my shoulder. I can attest to that. She was terribly heartbroken after the last time she saw you in the Alienage, after she rescued you from the slavers. She knew she wouldn't be receiving a grand homecoming; that tore her heart out. Duncan told me that Vala was the reason why he went to the Denerim Alienage. Her willingness to do whatever it took to complete her mission impressed him. You see, Grey Wardens have always done whatever it took to get the job done. I know that must sound very cold to you considering the grief and pain it brought to your family, but Grey Wardens can't let that get in the way of succeeding."

Cyrion wiped the tears away, returning to the place of honor he'd been granted.

"Let all know that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, and hopefully live up to this example. Friends, let us hope that she has gone on to a better place and that she knows just how thankful we are for what she has done here." Alistair carefully laid the rose he'd given her, which had been so beautifully preserved by Wynne all those long months ago upon her chest. "You will be missed. More than I can possibly say. Whatever better place you have gone onto, I hope you will always remember how much I love you."

Zevran walked up to Alistair, standing before Vala's sarcophagus. "Our dear Warden bade me to give this to you when the time was right. It was her wish that her words be read aloud for all to hear."

Alistair accepted the letter from Zevran, cocking an eyebrow at the Antivan elf. Why had Vala entrusted Zevran with something so important? He nodded at Zevran before opening the letter. His troubled thoughts floated back to the eve of the great battle, to Morrigan's dark offer and his refusal of it. He wished to spend that night with Vala instead, knowing it would most likely be the last. What a wonderful night it had been…she had given her all to him. Looking back it was if she knew what she was going to do. He glanced down at the letter, frowning. When had she had time to write it? They'd spent that entire night together, entwined in each other's arms. Somehow his tricky little minx must've wiggled her way out of his arms long enough to pen this missive.

"_Gentle raging lover,  
Weep no more.  
You have my heart,  
We share a common soul.  
Know that you are not alone;  
Our hearts shall keep us warm.  
Sweet and lovely dream,  
Tarry yet awhile.  
Let my arms enfold you,  
Let my soul keep you warm."  
_

A blush washed over Alistair's cheeks as he read from the letter. He couldn't bear to look up at the faces of those gathered around him, despite the fact that everyone knew of his relationship with Vala. Even Anora knew, having asked them both to keep it discreet.

"_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,  
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,  
Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight  
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_And you, my father, there on the sad height,  
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.  
Do not go gentle into that good night.  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.__ "_

"_And death shall have no dominion.  
Dead mean naked they shall be one  
With the man in the wind and the west moon;  
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,  
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;  
Though they go mad they shall be sane,  
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;  
Though lovers be lost love shall not;  
And death shall have no dominion."_

_My heart sails upon a sea of blackness. The tide is tumultuous as are my thoughts. I can scarcely stand to think of what tomorrow will bring, but I can't bear the thought of letting you risk everything we've fought so hard for. It breaks my heart knowing what I must do. I love you and I will never forget you. Every minute of every day we've spent together I have cherished. Growing up as I did, living in the shadows of the shems who treated my people so abhorrently, had colored my views of all shemlen men. But you broke through those walls, proving to me just how skewed my views were. It made me love you all the more. Don't cry for me, my love. Don't let my sacrifice build a wall around your heart. You have a bright future ahead of you as king and a beautiful woman to rule beside you as queen. Don't let your grief blind you to the bright future you could have. And if by chance you have a daughter, name her after me. There's so much more I'd love to say to you, but those words would be inappropriate for this letter. That is why you shall find a second one for your eyes only in our special place._

Tears slid unchecked down Alistair's face. Part of him wanted to run all the way up to the castle to find her other letter. He knew he couldn't leave the memorial service yet. So he focused his bleary eyes back on her words.

_To Zevran, to the best friend a girl could have. I know as much as you chased me you wanted more from me than just friendship, and if I could have given it, I would have. I think you and I were far too much alike for our own good. But you know this, yet I have to admit that I could have loved you if I'd never met Alistair. When you came into my life, I was surrounded by shems and one very stern qunari. It was refreshing to have a fellow elf around, despite the fact you were hired to kill any surviving Grey Wardens. No one understood why I spared you. I needed a connection to what I'd left behind, no matter how trivial. And in a very special way, I love you dearly._

_To Leliana, my beautiful bard friend, the one who kept me sane through it all and made me laugh with all your stories. I have long envied your beauty and your voice. You are so vivacious and so special. I never thought I ever would've stood a chance with Alistair with you around. You knew my fears. You consoled me and encouraged me, helping me through the worst of my heartbreak of what I'd done before I became a Grey Warden. You helped me be able to confess it all to Alistair. You were there when I needed a friend. I only hope I was able to give back to you what you gave to me. The sunset and the stars will never be the same for me because of you, my friend. _

_To Wynne, my advisor and mentor…I could always count on you to be there when I needed you. You became the mother I'd lost so long ago. You were ever the voice of rhyme and reason when I could make no sense of anything. Your gems of wisdom saw me through so many tough decisions. I will never forget you, my surrogate mother. _

_To Oghren, when we first met, I wanted to throttle you as hard as I could for your insults and belligerence, but I soon learned there was no one else I'd rather have at my back. You are heart and soul larger than life and have been a pleasure to know. I never would've thought so thinking back to that moment in Orzammar at the entrance to the Deep Roads. I've never met another who puts his all into everything he does. In battle, you are a scary monster, but I've seen you around children or animals, and it's those moments that see you change into the big hearted dwarf you really are. Don't ever change and remember to be good to Felsi. If you aren't I may have to come back from the dead and kick your sodding dwarven arse._

_To Sten, _kadan, _words cannot begin to express the depth of respect and friendship I have for you. When I rescued you from that cage in Lothering, I never knew I'd stumbled onto my greatest ally as well as greatest trial. Our views were so different. I could scarcely grasp the concepts you presented to me…of women not fighting, of people not being happy in their place in society, of how the qunari function as a people. It was all foreign to me, yet the more I listened to you, the more I came to realize, we wanted the same thing. You told me once that it was unheard of for a female to have her own beresaad, so I say to you, my friend that I am a better person for it and I can only hope I've made you proud of me. _

A single solitary tear dropped from Sten's violet eyes, sliding down his angular cheek to fall onto his brightly polished silver armor. The Qunari had worn his best to this service, in respect to the only person outside of his own people that he held in high esteem.

_To my father, I cannot tell you how shamed I am, how undeserving of being your daughter for the things I've done. I knew it was wrong when I did it. I was bitter and angry because that pig of a shemlen lord chose to take the other girls first when I'd offered myself instead. I know that's no reason to allow Shianni to suffer. I've regretted it every moment since. It was my fault, my doing. Shianni and Soris, especially Soris, shouldn't have paid for my actions. I've tried my hardest to be a better person. I can't say I blame you for the things you said to me. I am undeserving of being your daughter. I had no right to think I could stroll back into the Alienage as if nothing had happened and expect you to welcome me with open arms. Through it all I never forgot where I came from. I love you, father, with all my heart. I love you, Shianni and Soris, and though I can never make up for the pain I've caused, I hope someday you find it in your heart to forgive me. Walk well and be at peace._

_My heart, my love, goes out to all of you. _

_Vala_

Alistair looked up at the crowd surrounding him, realizing there wasn't a single dry eye to be found. He brushed his tears away and welcomed Leliana into his arms as she rushed forward to embrace him. The Orlesian bard nestled her head in the crook of Alistair's neck, crying large sobby tears that wet the golden breastplate of his armor. He soothed her, stroking her back tenderly. "Let it go, Leliana," he whispered.

Leliana pulled away from Alistair, facing her best friend. "Words and tales have long been my life, but as I stand here on the precipice, I can find no words to express how I feel. Vala was so special to me. She accepted me for who I am, despite my past. We spent many a night huddled together under a blanket. I would talk and she would mostly listen. I knew her fears, her hopes, and her dreams of a life with Alistair. I often reassured her that it was not he that my interest lie in, that my interest lie in her. She accepted my admission and did not judge me for it. She was beautiful, giving and extraordinary. I have composed a ballad in her honor that I shall play at the end of the service." With a hiccup, Leliana leaned forward, placing a kiss on Vala's cold forehead, then she whispered, "I will never forget you, my friend and I will always love you."

Alistair cleared his throat, "If anyone else wishes to say a few words…" He motioned to spot he had vacated as he moved to stand beside Anora. This time when he took hold of the queen's hand, caressing it in his much larger one, she did not refuse.

Oghren rubbed his red bulbous dwarven nose as he walked up to the sarcophagi with Felsi in tow. The dwarven berserker and his lady love both laid pink sweetheart roses upon the fallen elf's chest. "I never knew what real sodding honor was before I met Vala. Back in Orzammar, I was drowning in buckets of ale and self-pity, but she came along and took me away from all that. As we stood at the city gates of Denerim, she told me what an honor it had been to fight beside me. I told her that no one had looked at me and saw honor in a long, long time. She took a drunken disgrace of an Orzammar warrior and gave me a reason to keep going. She helped me get past Branka so I could find love again. Vala, I have never had a friend like you and it is my honor to let you know that if my Felsi has a girl, we will name her after you. You are the one who made it possible for me and Felsi to be together again. For that we will never sodding forget you."

Following Oghren and Felsi was Zevran. His mischievous green eyes sparkled as he attached a lone golden earring to a buckle on her black and silver armor. "Ah, what can I say to you, you saucy little minx. You protected me when you by rights should have killed me. You gave me a chance that no one else would have. Yes, I chased you. What a merry chase it was, but I knew where your heart lie. I shall never forget you, my dear Vala. May we meet again in another lifetime."

Alistair watched in reverence as Sten walked up Vala's resting place, kneeling before her. Silently the qunari said a few words then placed a small iconic totem she'd gifted the him onto her body. "Farewell, kadan," he spoke before walking away. The qunari didn't look back as he took his leave of Redcliffe. It was time for him to start his journey home.

Anora stepped away from Alistair, gracefully walking over to the stone sarcophagus. "When I met Vala, she and I scarcely trusted each other. I was the daughter of the man who'd harrowed her order, killed our king and slandered her every action. Yet what I saw in her was a powerful woman who was a force to be reckoned with. I asked her to side with me against the very man she'd been traveling with ever since Ostagar. When she agreed, I fully expected her to betray me yet she did not. She held up her end of the bargain, going as far as convince me to marry the man she loved. Her selflessness gave me new hope. I grew up around heroes, spent most of my life in the shadow of a living legend, but Vala is much more than that. I will never forget what she's done for me, what she's done for all of us." The Queen laid a white rose next to the others before she rejoined Alistair.

He cracked a small smile at Eamon and Teagan when they both spoke. He teared up anew as Bann Sighard and his son, Oswyn stepped forward to say their piece. Countless others cycled through, paying their final respects to Vala, the Hero of Ferelden. It warmed Alistair's heart that Vala had touched so many lives, that so many spoke so fondly of her.

Lastly, he made way for Leliana once more and the lovely but haunting ballad she'd composed in Vala's honor. As Alistair listened to Leliana sing, he glanced up at the castle. He couldn't wait to get away, couldn't wait to find the letter she'd left solely for him. He knew he'd treasure it forever, just as he would always treasure her.


	3. Sweet Dairren

**A/N:** This is a pairing between FemCousland and Dairren, son of Bann Loren. What I envision their night alone in her bed to be like. It's basic PWP. I recommend discretion if such writings offend you. Rated Mature for explicit content and language.

* * *

"Hello, my lady. I was hoping you'd seek me out. It's always wonderful to see you." Dairren lifted Sloane's hand, bring it to his mouth. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, lingering over long before letting go.

Sloane smiled widely, thinking back to when they'd met earlier in the spring. She'd become instantly enamored with his charm and good looks. It didn't take her long to make a play for him, snatching him out from beneath the noses of the other noble daughters also vying for his attention. She glanced around her father's study, catching Iona's eye. "And I was hoping to get you alone," she purred boldly.

Memories of their numerous trysts since then flooded her senses, sending a pleasant tingling racing through her blood. It pooled in her loins, driving her to seek _something _that would quench the need. That _something_ could only be Dairren. "As much as I desire that also, you know your mother is expecting you for dinner as is mine, but after that, the night is ours."

"I look forward to it, though I can scarcely imagine how I'm going to sit through dinner without embarrassing myself. I'd rather make a meal out of you," Sloane wrapped her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against his then she whispered in his ear. "Too bad you won't get rid of your mother's lady-in-waiting so we could have our dessert right here."

Dairren groaned softly, wrapping her in his embrace. He could feel his cock swell and harden within his smallclothes as he intimately pressed against her. His hands cupped her ass, sliding her mound over his swollen member, teasing himself as well as her. "I would, but I suspect that would lead to us being discovered in a rather compromising position."

"No doubt you are right," Sloane undulated her hips against him, eliciting a harsh groan from his lips. "I suppose I should leave you to recover. I'll be looking forward to later. Remember three light taps on my door."

* * *

Dairren walked into Sloane's bedchamber, looking sinfully scrumptious wearing only a pair of loose linen trousers. As he stepped further into the room, his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat as he saw her. Sloane stood beside her bed, dressed in a most enticing ensemble, in anticipation of his arrival. She had spent the last few hours since dinner in preparation for this night, and everything was perfect. Her hair, freshly washed, curled softly around her shoulders, smelling of flowers and sunshine. She had taken a long, luxurious bubble bath, and her body smelled softly of vanilla and lavender. Her skin was soft and glowing, gently scented by oils and perfume.

Her eyes were dark and smoldering against her creamy skin, cheeks flushed with desire and anticipation, her full lips were softly glossed, shiny and begging to be kissed. She saw his gaze travel down her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, taking everything in, appreciating the sight of her, ready and waiting for him.

He slowly gazed at her, taking in the sight of her full breasts nearly spilling over the top of the floor length red linen shift that she wore. He drank in every little detail. His eyes widened as he saw the hip-length slit in her shift, the graceful curve of her leg, and the lace edge of her smallclothes just barely showing.

Her legs, looking a mile long, were a sight to behold, and as his gaze moved lower, he took note of her bare feet with her red painted toes. Everything about her screamed "FUCK ME." As he moved his eyes up her body, he seemed unable to believe what he was seeing, almost as though he expected her to vanish, a glamour or fade, merely sent to torment him.

The moments seemed to last an eternity, and finally he came to her, taking her into his arms and kissing her as if his very life depended on it. She felt his cock, hard and hot through his trousers, pressing against her thigh, showing her just how powerful of an effect she had on him.

Breaking their kiss, she pushed him back against the wall and knelt before him. Her body aching with desire, she slowly tugged the trousers down his narrow hips, allowing his swollen member to spring free. His breath caught in his throat as she slid her hands along his length, fingernails gently scraping. As she took his shaft deeply into her mouth, he let out a long, low moan, encouraging her to do more.

Time came to a stop while she tormented him with her tongue, flicking it quickly across his swollen head, sucking him deeply into her throat, her hands alternately caressing his smooth balls and stroking his shaft as she sucked on him.

He sank his hands into her hair, gently massaging her scalp as she did things to him that he had only dreamed of. As she increased the speed and style of her torment, he began clutching at her hair, pulling it, pulling her head back so he could see his cock slide in and out of her wet mouth. The sight of her full, red lips sliding around his shaft was so powerful that he clutched the back of her head and cried out as he spasmed deep within her throat.

As his climax ended he gently pulled her hair back, pulling her off of his still throbbing member. He knelt by her side and gently bit the side of her neck, while sliding his hand inside her shift, pushing her smallclothes out of the way. He gasped in shock at how smooth, swollen and wet her pussy was, and before she had time to think, he slid his fingers inside her, feeling the effect that sucking his cock and tasting him cum in her mouth had had on her.

As he slid his fingers inside her, she gasped, her whole body quivering at his touch. Gently, he pushed her back until she lay on the floor, open for his every touch. He laid next to her, one hand deep in her hair, pulling her head back to allow himself better access to her tender neck and throat, the other tormenting her wet, throbbing pussy.

Slowly he moved his fingers in and out of her, around her red, swollen pussy lips, gently teasing her. As he slid his fingers in and out, he began to tease her hard little clit with his thumb, flicking it with his thumbnail one moment and using the pad of his thumb the next, driving her wild with need. Her hips arched, pressing herself against his tormenting hand, wanting more. Rolling against her side, he trapped her and held her down while he ravaged her pussy.

As they lay there, she reached down between her legs and found the wetness he had created, gently coating her fingers. Once thoroughly wetted, she reached down and grasped his hardening cock, stroking him with the hot, wet juices of her desire. They lay there, stroking and teasing each other, neither of them seeming to breathe, only small sounds of passion managing to escape their mingling lips. Before long, they were thrusting against each other, becoming more vigorous in their play.

As he kissed her, she trapped his bottom lip between her teeth, gently but firmly biting down. He responded by nipping at her earlobe, causing her to gasp in pleasure and pain. She reached her free hand over and gently pinched his hard little nipple between her fingers, rolling and pulling on it, feeling it tauten between her fingers. As soon as she released his nipple, he trapped her hand in his, pushing it above her head as he kissed her, deep and hard.

Their breathing coming faster now, she could only manage one word, barely even a whisper, "_**Please**_," and in one swift motion, he rolled on top of her and buried his long, hot cock inside her wet, aching pussy. She cried out as he entered her, spreading her open to receive all of his throbbing length. As he slid deeply within her tight walls, she felt the head of his cock hitting rock bottom, and as it did she cried out as she came.

Feeling her pussy quiver and throb around him, he thrust deeply within her throbbing passage relentlessly then released himself within her. They lay there quietly, bodies spent, his member still inside her, silently basking in the afterglow of their amazing encounter, hardly able to breathe. Finally, he raised himself up, looking her over, seeing her hair mussed and spread over the floor, her cheeks flushed with passion, and her lips swollen from kissing and biting.

A slow smile spread across his face, and before he could say anything, she opened her mouth, huskily whispering, "If you don't approach my father soon for my hand, I swear I'll kill you myself."

"Never fear, love, I already have."

* * *

**A/N:** With "Sweet Dairren" the smut returns. Yay! I had a whole different interlude that I was working on, but it turned into its own story and not just a vignette. So it will be posted separately once it's finished. It's titled "Two of a Kind" and is quite AU. My muse got a bee in her bonnet over that idea and refused to let go of the possibilities. The Human Noble origin is my favorite so if my stories focus on that, bear with me.

Thanks and happy reading!


	4. The First Cut is the Deepest

**A/N: **My cranky muse has been focused on "Two of a Kind," so "Love is a Battlefield" has fallen off to the wayside a bit, but I have managed to eek out a couple new chapters for it. These deal mostly with conversations I've imagined in my head during various game plays. These deal with Fem Cousland (my favorite origin), Bann Teagan (Oh so yummy Teagan... I wish he'd been romanceable in the game), and Alistair.

**Disclaimer: **Bann Teagan, Alistair, Sten and Morrigan are all property of Bioware. I own nothing, except Shanaya. "The First Cut is the Deepest" is property of Sheryl Crow. **

* * *

****Conversations**

I still want you by my side  
just to help me dry the tears that I've cried  
but I'm sure gonna give you a try  
cuz if you want I'll try to love again  
(try to love again, try to love again)  
baby, I'll try to love again but I know, OOHHH...

the first cut is the deepest  
baby I know  
the first cut is the deepest  
when it comes to bein' lucky, he's cursed  
when it comes to lovin' me, he's worst

–The First Cut is the Deepest – Sheryl Crow

**A.) The first cut is the deepest (Bann Teagan)**

The road weary travelers entered the chapel of the Redcliffe Chantry, noting that the pews now served as means of blocking the rose pink stained glass windows. Frightened villagers huddled in small groups upon makeshift pallets of fur and cloth, cowering fretfully. Desperation hung heavy in the air as the sound of children weeping and fervent praying of the women and elderly added to the hopelessness. The misery choked all happiness, making it seem as if breathing was difficult with all the despair crowding the air.

The small group followed Tomas until he stopped in front of an august and dignified man wearing a rather haggard frown. His brow furrowed curiously as he took in the sight before him. He turned his gaze to the man he'd given the task of guarding the road. "Tomas, why have you left your post? And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travelers."

"Beg your pardon, my lord, they just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them. They were asking questions of the arl." Tomas replied, "I shall return to my post."

"Well done, Tomas. Greetings, friends," he said, addressing the group before him. "My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the arl."

A smile cracked the face of the tall blond man amongst the group, "I remember you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met I was much younger and... covered in mud."

Recognition caused Teagan's lips to twitch. His eyes lit up in surprise. "Covered in mud? ...Alistair? It is you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news! I only wish my brother were able to greet you himself. I know he would be most pleased to see you still live."

Alistair gave a wry chuckle, "Ha! Still alive, yes, though I'm just as surprised about that as you are, believe me."

Teagan nodded, "Indeed. Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died alongside Cailan, amongst other things."

Alistair scoffed, "No, two of us survived. Might I introduce my fellow surviving Grey Warden, Shanaya?"

Teagan turned a critical eye to the woman standing off to Alistair's left side. He'd given her only a cursory glance when Tomas had announced them, but now that he'd gotten a good look his brow furrowed deeper while his expression turned stern. He rubbed his face awkwardly, "Unfortunately, introductions are not needed. Tell me, Lady Cousland, how _does_ your father fare these days?"

Shanaya sneered at him, "I thank you for remembering my title, but you may drop the gentlemanly act, Bann Teagan. Given our history, I should say it is quite beneath you and quite unnecessary. While I admire your attempt at civility, your timing, amongst other things, is what I find lacking. My father, Teyrn Cousland, _is_ **dead**, no thanks to Rendon Howe and from what I gathered at Ostagar, Teyrn Loghain."

Alistair groaned at Shanaya's umpteenth millionth mention of her father's death, but found his curiosity being aroused at the revelation of Shanaya's history with Bann Teagan. "Wait, you two know each other already? Is that what spurred that impromptu shouting match back at camp over your hesitancy to come here?"

"Ah, the idiot finally caught a clue, did he?" Morrigan interjected scathingly. Alistair shot Morrigan a look of warning.

"Yes, the _lady_," he coughed, clearing his throat, "… and I have a history."

Shanaya glared at him venomously. "It is as Teagan says, but no longer important. We were betrothed once a little over five years ago. My father thought uniting Highever and Redcliffe would be fortuitous for the future of Ferelden. Then Maric died. A Landsmeet was called to fill the throne. When the whole of the Bannorn sided in favor of my father as the next king of Ferelden, Loghain and Eamon objected quite prolifically. They charged it was unprecedented and that my father was stealing the throne from poor Cailan. Being the fair man that my father was, he had no intention of taking or ever wearing the crown. Teyrn Cousland turned it down, siding in favor of Cailan to take his father's throne. By that point, the damage had already been done and Teagan and I parted on less than amicable terms. And now you wonder why I argued so passionately against coming here with you. I refuse to be your nursemaid, Alistair, or the one that holds your hand through every step of this insanely monumental task that has landed in our laps. I state once again wholeheartedly that Ferelden wouldn't be in the state it's in if my father hadn't been so noble minded. He should've taken the throne. Teyrn Cousland wouldn't have foolishly put his entire army at risk at Ostagar. He wouldn't have acted so rashly. He wouldn't have been solely seeking glory and he never would've placed so much trust in Loghain."

"And you still think that Teyrn Loghain and Arl Howe wouldn't have found a way to remove him from the throne. Arl Eamon never would've stood for it, no matter what the rest of the Bannorn had decided. Your father would still be dead." Alistair hotly contested as his eyes turned icy cold.

Shanaya drew back her gauntleted fist and planted it firmly in Alistair's face, "You bastard, you know nothing of my father and nothing of what you speak of. I was there at that fated Landsmeet. My father was a better man than all of you combined."

"Crazy bitch, how dare you hit me? I think you broke my face."

"Consider it an improvement," Shanaya charged while Morrigan cackled with glee.

Teagan pushed his way between the two combatants. "Might I remind you this is not the time or place for fighting? You are in the sacred hall of the Maker. You have my condolences over the death of your family, Lady Cousland. Despite everything, Bryce was a good, wise man who made the right choice. I regret far more than the broken engagement." When he was certain that two Wardens wouldn't continue their fight, Teagan turned their focus to the matter at hand. "If you've indeed come to see my brother, then that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill and...he may be dead for all we know."

Alistair rubbed his smarting nose while making a mental note to have Wynne check for actual breakage, "Yes, we knew he was ill. We ran into Ser Donall in Lothering. He told us of Eamon's illness and Lady Isolde's decision to send the knights of Redcliffe on the hunt for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. It was then that we decided to track down Brother Genitivi. Luck would have it we found the brother and the urn in a place called Haven."

"You... found the Urn? That's excellent news, Alistair. Did you bring it with you?" Teagan's eyes lit up brightly.

"I found the Urn. Alistair had nothing to do with its recovery."

The blond Warden glared at the woman who'd spoken again, "Could you keep your bile at a minimum, woman? It's all semantics at this point. It doesn't matter who actually recovered it, only that it is here and that it will cure Arl Eamon. I owe him that much."

Ignoring the verbal spat between the two Wardens, Teagan interjected, "Tell me… how can this be? How... where did you find it?"

"In a temple lost to the ages on a mountain near Haven," Alistair replied, "From what I've been told it's about a five day journey to the west of here in the lower Frostback Mountains."

"That is truly a miracle. You have my heartfelt thanks, Alistair, and you as well, Lady Shanaya. Before we can enter the castle and revive my brother we must first deal with the attacks on the village. For the past few nights, _evil_ things come out of the castle and attack the village. And each night their numbers grow. I fear tonight's assault will be the worst. With my brother sick, Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my desperate calls for help. Alistair, I desperately need the help of you and your companions."

Alistair glanced over at Shanaya, "I can't speak for her, but you know I will help you. We need Arl Eamon's help against Loghain."

"We're all amazed that you can speak for yourself," Morrigan sneered.

"Alistair, you can stay, but I'm not. This isn't my fight. I was against begging Eamon for help in the first place. I'm taking Morrigan and Sten with me, though."

"You… You're leaving me here to deal with this on my own," Alistair retorted, "You…you bitch."

"Oh, is that supposed to hurt my feelings? Might I suggest you try harder? Might I also suggest you grow a pair and cease behaving like a whining child? We have treaties to secure, moron." Shanaya spat at him, "I'm not going to hold your hand in this. When I return to camp, I'll send you Leliana, Wynne and Oghren, but I'm taking Morrigan, Sten and Zevran with me to find the Dalish."

"Why must you take Sten?" Alistair shot back, glancing up at the big man standing behind Shanaya. "I thought his sword was somewhere here in Redcliffe…that trader… collector has it."

"I'm taking Sten with me because he will not follow _you_. Besides I have need of a warrior to go with me to seek the Dalish. I will not put up with that drunken excuse for a dwarf and I will not listen to any mindless bickering from Morrigan about his stench, his ill attempts at humor nor her threats to kill him."

"I believe you not only described my exact objections with the dwarf, but with Alistair as well," she grinned smugly.

"I fail to see why Sten won't follow me. I'm the senior Grey Warden of the two of us. Plus I know more about fighting than you do…"

"That's debatable, besides you weren't the one who released him in Lothering and you haven't proven yourself to him. I did on both accounts." Shanaya retorted. "Isn't that right, Sten?"

"Parshaara," Sten grumbled, "You waste time bickering when there are no darkspawn here. We gain nothing by joining in this fight. Let us be on our way."

Shanaya turned on her heel, heading away from the gathered group, "Waiting on you now. Sten, Morrigan, let's go. I'll not spend another second on that Chantry fool." She stormed out, stopping only at the great doors to glance back at Bann Teagan. A tiny voice deep inside nagged at her, reminding her of days gone by. She looked away, squishing the memories before they surfaced and made her doubt her decision to leave. It was the first chink in her armor, the first crack in her resolve. Old wounds had been torn open. This time she knew the wound had been cut deeper and would take longer to heal.


	5. Aggravating the Wound

**A/N: **After I wrote and posted "Dangerous Liasions" I decided I wanted another crack at writing the Landmeet sequence. Ideas came forth that I hadn't had the first time around. For better or for worse, here is that offering. Some events in this chapter are not for the faint of heart. And some of the actions of the characters within **do not **follow their in game personalities. Ya don't like it, feel free to tell me so. There were just things I imagined (Or maybe it was my cranky muse) that should have been possible. Am I crazy? Yes, I am.

**Disclaimer: **Bioware owns everything Dragon Age. Shinedown owns "Sound of Madness." The only thing I can claim is Shanaya's evilness and my prolific proclivity for writing and having a seriously cranky muse.

**

* * *

****B.) Aggravating the wound (Landsmeet)**

– Yeah, I get it,  
You're an outcast.  
Always under attack.  
Always coming in last,  
Bringing up the past.  
No one owes you anything.  
I think you need a shotgun blast,  
A kick in the ass,  
So paranoid...  
Watch your back!

Oh my, here we go...  
Another loose cannon gone bi-polar  
Slipped down, couldn't get much lower.  
Quicksand's got no sense of humor.  
I'm still laughing like hell.  
You think that the cryin' to me,  
Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,  
You've been infected by a social disease.  
Well, then take your medicine.  
I created the sound of madness.  
Wrote the book on pain.  
Somehow I'm still here,  
To explain,  
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.  
You can sleep with a gun.  
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself? -

– Sound of Madness – Shinedown

* * *

Boldly Shanaya marched into the Landsmeet Chamber, all alone despite Arl Eamon telling her she had to bring Alistair with her. She vowed to give nothing to, do nothing for her fellow Grey Warden. Nor could she ever bring herself to support the reigning bitch queen, Anora. Shanaya was there to put Loghain in his place, furthering the name of vengeance in the Cousland name. If the Bannorn would have her, she would take the throne for the Cousland's, something her father had been too noble to do. The task ahead was monumental, that she knew, but she had the support of many behind her. Men and women who had once supported her father, who appreciated her efforts in the matters she'd recently solved for them.

She interrupted Loghain's speech, turning the spotlight from the fear of Orlais to the real threat, the Blight. "Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet, despite all of the teyrn's crowing about Orlais, there is nothing to fear. Empress Celene has no designs on our country. She _was_ willing to aid us with the Blight, but those negotiations ceased when Cailan died at Ostagar. She and Cailan had set aside the arguments of the past between their father's and were working together to form a new alliance. At Eamon's urging, Cailan was planning to set Anora aside as his queen. Cailan sought a bigger prize, that being Celene. I have documents recovered from the Royal Arms Chest in Ostagar detailing these negotiations. Cailan's first move would have been to combine the countries of Ferelden and Orlais, naming himself Emperor to Celene's Empress.

"Those plans will never come to fruition because of the man that stands before me. Our country is overrun with darkspawn and there are two Wardens in all of Ferelden left to battle them. Loghain can speak of the Wardens so-called spectacular failure at Ostagar when he knows he had a hand in setting up that failure. Many ask how I and my fellow remaining Warden survived the massacre at Ostagar. Loghain has even asked that as well, but he knows that answer. He's withheld that information because the truth would expose his lies for what they are. I'm sure you remember that ill-fated strategy meeting a mere hour or two before the battle. Poor Cailan expressed his decision to stand with the Grey Wardens in the assault, but you did all you could to talk him down from that 'rash action.' You told him the darkspawn horde was too dangerous for him to be playing hero on the front lines. You are the one who goaded him into making that charge, not the Grey Wardens. As I recall, the leader of the Fereldan Wardens spent his time at that meeting cautioning Cailan on the possible appearance of the Archdemon. All Cailan spoke of was glory. It was glory this and glory that and marvelous glory for everyone.

"Then it was decided that the beacon at the top of the Tower of Ishal would be lit by me, the newest Warden recruit and the other new Grey Warden. I had barely been a Warden for all of an hour at that point. You wanted the men you had stationed there to light said beacon. You wanted all the Wardens alongside Cailan so when you quit the battlefield after that beacon was lit everyone who might be able to speak out against your actions on that battlefield would be thoroughly and unequivocally silenced. I didn't turn out that way. I survived Ostagar. I am witness to your many crimes before, at and after Ostagar."

From the sidelines a man Shanaya recognized as Bann Ceorlic interrupted, "Do continue, Warden. The Landsmeet hungers to hear the tactical analysis of Ostagar from a spoiled child."

"Stuff your head, Ceorlic," Shanaya retorted, "You weren't at Ostagar. You and your fat cow of a wife have been living in the lap of luxury here in Denerim for how many years now. You care nothing for the people living in your bannorn. They have suffered while you sip brandy from golden goblets and dine sumptuously upon seven course meals.

"For the past year, my fellow Warden and I have been travelling throughout Ferelden, gathering the allegiance of the Dwarves of Orzammar, the Dalish Elves and the Circle of the Magi. We've put together an army who has come together for the sole purpose of defeating the Blight. Elves are standing beside dwarves, a feat this country hasn't witnessed in four centuries because the darkspawn threaten us all. They aren't bickering over petty trivialities like who deserves the throne and who should lead them. They know. They all follow my command. The King of Orzammar has provided me with a tide of steel men, the first in a millennium to march against the darkspawn since the very first Blight. I have Steel Golems at my command, Loghain. Can you say the same?

"And while I was saving the Dalish elves from a rabid pack of werewolves, Teyrn Loghain authorized the sale of the elves from the Alienage here in Denerim to a Tevinter slaver, on the pretense that the Tevinter mages were curing the plague… a plague that was supposedly derived from the Blight. I find that all rather appalling, not only because very few elves accompanied the army at Ostagar, but also because it shows how little a person's life means to him. It compounds upon his actions at Ostagar when he left Cailan to die.

"While I was saving the Circle Tower from a takeover by a mad mage turned abomination whose name was Uldred, Teyrn Loghain was allowing Rendon Howe to up the chaos quotient by imprisoning and torturing innocents. You knew what Howe was up to and don't even try to deny it. You promised Uldred if he convinced the Circle to ally with you, you would free the Mages from the Chantry. I witnessed what Uldred did to the Circle, Uldred who was a maleficar and an insane abomination, free of the Chantry. Talk about your recipe for disaster. If you don't believe me, I have sworn statements from several Templars, including Knight-Commander Greagoir as well as the First Enchanter Irving and other surviving Mages.

"Not that I'd ever defend you, but I'm quite sure most of your crimes found their beginnings in Howe's sick and depraved mind. Why else would you allow his takeover of Highever? Why else would you have Arl Eamon poisoned? You knew you would never get away with Cailan's death while Teyrn Cousland and Arl Eamon still lived. So you thought you could get rid of the two major obstacles before you did so. But you failed where Arl Eamon is concerned. I pray to the Maker every day that what happened to my family never happens to another.

"Yet because of Howe and Loghain, many people have suffered. The elves in the Alienage were subjected to a purge because Howe claimed they had killed Arl Urien's son, but Arl Urien's son still lives. In fact he's present and accounted for. The people of Redcliffe were subjected to undead abominations unleashed by a demon that took over the mind of Connor Guerrin after Loghain sent an apostate to poison the Arl. The very same apostate was taken out of the custody of a templar who'd been charged with finding him. I found that templar in the dungeons at the Arl of Denerim's palace, held there by Howe. I also found the son of one of our Bann's being tortured in that same dungeon. Both Loghain and Howe sought to silence said noble son because he claimed his wet nurse's son, a friend since childhood, was a soldier in a unit of Maric's Shield who was ordered to turn their backs on Cailan at Ostagar... _**before**_ the darkspawn overwhelmed him just shortly after the beacon that Loghain was supposed to respond to was lit. The next day, his friend disappeared. When he went to search for his friend, he was met with the offer of a poisoned chalice and therefore, ending up at the mercy of Howe. I have a signed statement from him as evidence. The mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives and other loved ones are suffering the losses of, grieving for, the men and women who died at Ostagar. That kind of loss is a gaping hole in the hearts and souls of each of us who battle that loss every day. Trust me, I feel that grief.

"And why? Because one man thinks he is the only one who can see us through this crisis? A crisis he engineered? Lord and Ladies of the Landsmeet, this is the moment when we band together against this tyranny. This is the moment for your voices to be heard. Bann Sighard, tell us of the torture done to your son. Bann Vaughan, tell us of the humiliation of being left to rot in your own dungeon. Bann Alfstanna, tell us how your brother was wrenched from his sacred duty. Arl Wulff, tell us of your grief at losing both your sons, your heirs, to the darkspawn. Arl Bryland, tell us how South Reach is overrun by darkspawn. And then when it's all said and done, I shall tell you what it was like to see the noblest man I've ever known dying in a pool of his own blood because someone he trusted betrayed him. I am the last of the Cousland's and I came here today not only to bring end to this civil war, but to bring all of us together in order to defeat the Blight."

The chamber exploded in shouts and applause before Loghain wrestled control of the floor. He mocked her with loud clapping. "What would the assembled Lords and Ladies think of your father's duplicity, Warden? Your esteemed father, Bryce Cousland, was selling secrets to Orlais, accepting gifts from old enemies. And what would the assemblage here think of you murdering Rendon Howe? You came here pointing the finger at me for whatever you think I might have done. You claim to offer proof of these wrongdoings. It's only fair that I return the favor. You claim this army who gathered follows your command, but isn't it true Warden that you can't even keep dissention out of the ranks of those who follow you in your little entourage? Where is your fellow Warden today? The very same fellow Warden that Eamon claims is Maric's bastard. Where is this Alistair?"

"Excuse me, Loghain, I may be a lot of things, but I am not Alistair's nursemaid. I've said that time and time again. I am a Cousland. I am a Grey Warden, but I am not responsible for that moron not being here. As far as your lies against my father, I can tell the Landsmeet that he was working for Cailan. My father was the one Cailan entrusted with his dealings with Orlais. My father brokered the arrangement between Cailan and Celene. It's all in the documents I brought with me. You can try to defame my father, but you don't have a leg to stand on. Your attempts are as pathetic as you are."

Loghain rolled his eyes, "How could we forget that you are a Cousland? How many times have you reminded us of that fact, Warden? Isn't it true, though, when one joins the Warden you have to give up all claims to titles you may have, that you are stripped of your name? Does that mean in all reality that you are the last of nothing? No longer a Cousland, just a fool husk of a daughter who will most likely end up spending the last of her days under a rock in the depths of the Deep Roads."

"Yes, the Wardens are supposed to break all ties to their former lives, but I can honestly say I never wanted to become a Grey Warden. I have served because I was conscripted into the ranks by a loathsome man who guilted a dying man into giving him what he wanted. That doesn't change the fact that I am Bryce and Eleanor Cousland's youngest child, that I vowed to my father I would take vengeance on the man who betrayed him. Cousland's do their duty. I have done mine as a Cousland, and as a Grey Warden. The Blight is my duty and I will fight it until the bitter end. I will fight it until the Archdemon is dead and Ferelden is saved beyond all shadow of a doubt."

"Warden, you can laud the masses with your so-called proof of my wrongdoings, but whatever I have done, I will answer for later. The Maker will be my judge. At the moment, however, I wish to know what you have done with my daughter."

Shanaya curled her lips in disgust, "You're deluded, Loghain. I've done nothing with that conniving cold hearted commoner bitch you call a daughter. Last I saw her she was resting comfortably at Eamon's estate, sucking down wine and candied grapes. You can dress it up anyway you like, but she hasn't a drop of noble or royal blood running in her veins. I have more nobility in my pinky finger than you and she have in your whole bodies."

"And you call your defaming speech noble?" Anora spoke up as she walked into the Landsmeet chamber. "Knowing them as I did, I believe your mother and father would be disgusted at your less than noble behavior today. You speak of my husband seeking glory, but isn't that what you are attempting to garner for yourself. You can seek to discredit me and my father all you want, but the truth of the matter is I can see right through you. My father will always do what must be done for Ferelden. And it is clear to me now that you will not. It has also become clear to me, Warden, that the true threat to this nation is you. I offered you the chance to ally with me for the good of this nation, and you refused it. I will not allow you to destroy the throne Cailan and I have held. You aren't here on behalf of the Grey Wardens. You are here to make a bid for the throne for yourself because you believe your father never should've turned it down. Isn't that why you didn't bring Alistair with you today?"

Shanaya let out a laugh as she shook her head. "I didn't bring Alistair because he's not fit to rule this country. He's not capable of finding his way out of hole in the ground, let alone leading the country in peace or war. I've spent the last year travelling with him and I can tell you that for a fact. As for making a bid for throne, it's not an impossibility. As a Cousland, I was taught by my father the arts of governing. The rule of Highever was handed to me while he was busy carrying out Cailan's dirty work with Orlais. I am the one who brought the elves, dwarves and mages together to form my army against the Blight. None of you can say that. I may not be my father, but then again you are not yours either. The whole of the Bannorn decided my father should rule Ferelden after King Maric died. I hope to follow in my father's footsteps. Just a tiny reminder, Anora, the only reason you are queen is because of Teyrn Cousland."

Loghain joined Anora at the head of the chamber, nodding at her before he started speaking again. "Who here can say that Anora is not fit to rule this land? And who can say that this Cousland upstart is? Or this Alistair as a matter of fact? Eamon, do you where he happens to be this very moment? Not here, obviously. All we know of him is that he _may_ have royal blood. As Maric's closest confidant, I would've known if he had another son, bastard or otherwise. For five years Anora has been queen, and proven herself worthy of the Theirin name. She can lead our people through this crisis, and I can lead her armies. My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself."

From the back of the chamber came a disgruntled looking Alistair. He glared at Shanaya, nodded at Eamon then turned his focus to Anora and Loghain. "Since everyone seems to be making speeches today, I thought I'd make one of my own. My birth was kept a secret. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle. She died shortly after I was born. I never knew her or my father, King Maric, but I learned later the reason I was kept secret. King Maric didn't want his wife, Cailan's mother, to know he had sired another son at the same time that he had sired Cailan. So when my mother died, Arl Eamon took it upon himself to raise me. At the age of ten, I was sent to the Chantry. I was to become a Templar, no doubt that reasoning so I wouldn't perpetuate the bastard Theirin life if I sired a child. Being conscripted into the Wardens saved me from that fate. But the very thing that makes a Warden a Warden also may prevent me from furthering the Theirin line. Despite the discord between my fellow Warden and I, I stand with her in her accusations of Loghain. From her, I learned I would have to stand up for myself more. She taught me I had to stop letting everyone around me make all the decisions for me or I'd never me happy. She's one right evil, nasty bitch to deal with, but I believe her heart is in the right place. She wants to fulfill her duty as a Grey Warden, just as I do. That duty is defeating the Blight, slaying the Archdemon. As Wardens, we have a duty that cannot be forsworn. Beyond that if it is her desire to rule this country that my father fought so hard to free from the Orlesians, then I have to support her 100 percent, despite all that she's had to say about me. You see, we are united in a common goal against all our enemies, might they be the darkspawn or Loghain's regime. I stand with Shanaya Cousland… the question is DO YOU?"

The son of Arl Urien stepped forward, leaning against the railing, "The Warden! I'm with the Warden!"

"South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens," Arl Bryland called out.

"Lady Cousland helped me personally in a… family matter. I support her and her bid wholeheartedly," a nobleman whose name Shanaya quite couldn't place spoke out. She knew he had to be the one whose son was rescued from Captain Chase, though.

"For the service rendered in saving my brother from the imprisonment he suffered," Bann Alfstanna nodded down at Shanaya and Alistair, "Waking Sea stands with the Grey Warden!"

"I would never support a man who'd allow another to do what Rendon Howe did. The injuries my son suffered at the hands of that snake is beyond any healer's skill to mend. Dragon's Peak supports the Warden! May she be as wise and fair as her father was!" Bann Sighard thumped his fist against the railing before him, driving his message forth dramatically.

"The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us," Arl Wulff growled righteously.

"I stand by Loghain! We've no hope of victory otherwise." Bann Ceorlic sneered at Shanaya. His oily voice echoed throughout the chamber.

Another bann stepped forth, "I stood by Bryce all those years ago. I stand behind his daughter. She, as a Warden, not only has the skill to lead us through this Blight, but has captured all the fire and determination Bryce had to see that justice is done. She can lead us through this. I support her 100 percent."

"I stand with the Warden! The Blight is coming; we need the Grey Wardens!" A red haired bann with a bushy moustache added, bringing the count up to seven to two against Loghain and Anora.

"We who are assembled will accept and honor Shanaya Cousland's bid for the throne _providing _the bastard son of Maric takes his rightful place as king to her queen. We believe they will do what is best for Ferelden," Bann Reginalda of the White River Bannorn spoke up as she took her place beside Bann Sighard. "Who can deny Shanaya is not worthy given all she has done? Who can deny she has lived up to the heroics of her father during the Orlesian occupation when Teyrn Bryce fought alongside Arl Leonas Bryland of South Reach at the battle of White River. We all found him worthy of being King when we stood behind him at the last great Landsmeet. She has been found worthy of becoming Queen."

"The Landsmeet has decided against you, Loghain. Step down gracefully," Shanaya spoke up as her heart pounded in her chest at the suggestion she become queen to Alistair's king. The very thought enraged her. She couldn't see herself tied to him no more than she could see him ruling Ferelden on his own. She nearly shook at the indignation of it all, yet her father's last words to her rang in her head over and over.

_Cousland's do their duty…_

If this was what her duty was to be then so be it.

_So be it…_ Shanaya knew she would hate it, but _so be it…_

Loghain turned his attention to the nobles who'd allied themselves with the Grey Wardens before him, "Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us once, Eamon. You cared about this land once before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! I have always done what is best for the country I love. Every soul who fought alongside Maric knows this. War is cruel! And in it, there are no such things as innocents, only the living and the dead, and the degrees of guilt both bear. How dare you judge me!"

A whole contingent of Loghain's guard spilled into the Landsmeet chamber. Shanaya's eyes narrowed dangerously as she took a quick head count of their numbers. "Do you really think it is wise to use force to gain your way? Do you not see that would only serve to strengthen my argument against you? Can you not use your wits and win this war of words? But it is a fight you seek, I suggest you call off your men and let us settle this honorably."

"Then let us end this. I suppose we both knew it would come to this." His voice calmed, his demeanor resigned, "A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me. Enough. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel."

Bann Alfstanna nodded at the pair before her. Her voice took on a formal tone, "It shall be fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome."

"Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?" Loghain challenged.

"I gladly face you myself," Shanaya accepted, drawing her wicked two handed sword. "I've been awaiting this moment."

A million thoughts raced through her head as her rage gripped her. All the madness had boiled down this moment. She pulled away from Alistair and charged toward Loghain, her sword at the ready to strike the instant she slammed her body into his.

Loghain barely had time to draw his weapons before the screaming female reached him. He felt the impact as she collided with him. It left him staggering and winded. Raising his sword and shield, he ducked, avoiding her gigantic sweeping blow, and danced away from her, making a short jab at her exposed side. He punctured her armor, nicked her, grinning as blood spurted from the deep wound. Shanaya growled at him, and swung her sword once more. Loghain jumped back, evading another wide-arced attack then circling around her, waiting for the opportune moment to drive his sword deep into her flesh once more.

Shanaya sensed what he was about to do, however, and spun about just before the wily veteran got the chance to drive his blade home. Loghain dodged the incoming sword and instead of pressing his attack, he continued to back away from the berserk Warden. He would make her come to him, wearing her down with the violent swings of her two handed weapon. Shanaya swung her big sword wildly, screaming as she missed her mark. Loghain deflected the strike deftly with his shield and launched a counter-attack. His sword caught the Warden in the ribs, puncturing her armor and drawing even more blood.

"I'll see you dead if it's the last thing I do," Shanaya shouted, swinging her beloved sword with all the might she possessed. It connected, renting a wide slash in the breastplate of his silverite armor. "Take that, you monster!"

She lunged, swinging the heavy blood stained sword again. "Did you think I'd lie down and die? Did you think I wouldn't avenge my father? Your orders to Howe ended the life of a ten year old boy!"

It was more a cry of anguish than a battle cry. She breathed in sharply and gnashed her teeth. "You had no right!"

Shanaya felt old rage and pain rising up inside herself. Old wounds ripped wide open. Old ghosts gripped her, dragging her back to Howe's deceit. This was something he perpetuated against her family to make her suffer. Even in death, he haunted her still. She thrust her sword, its deadly point sinking into the gash in the armor, and unleashed a scream to match Loghain's.

"Did you think you could take everything from me that I held dear? Kill my family but not kill me. Do you think you would get away with it?" Loghain barely managed to dodge her next attack. The next one, he failed to block. Blood sprayed from his side as her sword dug in deeply. Blood lust gripped her and she lunged again, stabbing the sword at his torso. Loghain twisted aside, but was not fast enough as the edge of her blade once again slashed across his chest. Howling from the pain, he tried to shrug it off, drawing his shield closer to him to protect his wounded chest. Despite it all, he could feel his strength sagging. He knew the end was near.

In the next tense seconds, Shanaya sent her sword flying straight at him. The huge weapon went spinning through the air and only swift reflexes saved Loghain from being impaled by it.

Loghain felt the air leaving his lungs as Shanaya slammed into him. He collided with the supports of the chamber tiered balcony where most of the nobles had stood during the proceedings and tried to bring his sword up and stab, but he never made it. Tightly clenched fists pounded furiously into his face. Another hit caught him in the ribs, knocking out what little air he had left. His vision blurred. Shanaya kept driving her fists into him relentlessly. He felt his legs giving in under him. He slipped down, but she grabbed him by the throat, hoisted him up, and slammed him against the support beams once more.

Before he could mount an offensive, Loghain felt his head being jerked back as Shanaya threaded her hands into his dark brown hair, nearly snapping his neck. He gasped for breath.

"And now… You're going to pay," she snatched a hidden dagger from inside her armor's leg guard and gripped it in one of her bloodied hands.

Shanaya wouldn't give him the chance to surrender. She owed her father that much, she owed Duncan and Cailan that much. She unleashed the wail of the damned and drew the dagger back. In one clean sweep, she brought it down swiftly, jaggedly slicing his throat wide open from ear to ear. He gurgled his last breaths as Shanaya slammed the bloody dagger through his armor into his back. She knew this could turn the nobles fierce against her, causing them to choose Anora to rule, but vengeance for all the wrongs this man had committed burned deeply inside her. _So let it be_, she thought.

Retrieving her discarded sword, she stood over Loghain's body and held her sword out before her. With a scream, she quickly decapitated him and spit on the remains of his body. Then she hoisted his head high and cried out in victory, a high-pitched expletive spewing forth from her lips. She threw the severed head, watching as the look of horror and grief took hold of the queen's usually sedate features as it landed at her feet.

The same look graced the faces of many who had gathered. Shock, disbelief of the bloody carnage before them, but also relief that someone had taken it upon themselves to do the right thing wore heavy on the assemblage.

Palpable silence, thicker and heavier than the blood staining the stone of the chamber, hung in the air, interrupted only by harsh breathing, uncontrollable retching and frenetic cries of dismay. Never before had a Landsmeet ended in such a gruesome fashion. Many eyes turned to Eamon, who stood before them horrified and all but speechless. "Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet, I do hereby declare that Alistair will take his father's throne," he announced.

"I will," Alistair agreed, reveling in the kind of justice Shanaya had wrought against Loghain. "I hereby name Shanaya Cousland as my Queen, to rule beside me as an equal."

When no objections came from the assemblage, Eamon continued, "Anora, the Landsmeet has decided against you. You must now swear an oath of fealty to Alistair, giving up all claim to the throne for you and your heirs."

Anora sneered at Eamon, "If you think I will swear such an oath, Eamon, you don't know me very well. It will never happen."

"Why am I not surprised?" Alistair muttered before addressing Anora directly. "As my first act as King, I order you locked in the tower until such time we decide what to do with you. I can't speak for my queen to be, though by the rage simmering on her face, but I can only guess that her answer would be to call for your execution, as you would no doubt call for ours. I won't kill you. Shanaya and I have Blight to stop, if both of us should fall in battle, the throne falls back to you. Someone has to take this Blight seriously."

"You'd give me a chance at the throne after all this," her disbelief was written all over her face. "That is uncharacteristically wise of you, Alistair."

"Don't let it get around. I've got a reputation to uphold," his lips curled with determination. "Guards, take her away."

"Your Majesty, would you address the Landsmeet?" Eamon nodded to Alistair.

Alistair's inherent goofiness chose that moment to surface, "Oh... that would be me. Right, um... I never knew him, but from all I've heard of my father, what defined him was his commitment to protecting this land. I may be Maric's son, but I am also a Grey Warden. I took an oath: I swore I would stand and fight the darkspawn, no matter the cost to myself. I can't break that oath just to wear the crown. I have to go with Shanaya to face the Blight. When the Blight is over, I'll come back and take up my duties... whatever they are... as king. Until then, I think Arl Eamon will have to be my regent."

After a roar of approval, Eamon graciously accepted, "Then I can do Maric's memory no less honor than you do. I accept. And may the Maker bless your efforts against the darkspawn."

Alistair turned to Shanaya, "My warrior queen to be and fellow Grey Warden will, I hope, take Loghain's place as the leader of my armies. Shall we finish this thing together?"

Shanaya beamed him the most brilliant smile she could muster, "You bet your sweet ass we will!"

Shaking his head at her comment, Alistair spoke once more, "Everyone, get ready to march. It's going to take all of Ferelden's strength to survive this Blight. But we **will** face it. And we'll defeat it."

The roar of the crowd erupted in mass approval, bringing a smile to Alistair's face. He could scarcely believe Shanaya had pulled such a coup. He knew without a shadow of a doubt his life would never be dull again.

"We need to talk," his eyes met hers, holding steady, "_Privately_."

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_To be continued…_


	6. Suturing the Wound

**A/N: This is the third and final chapter of the "Wounds" series. Yes, things progress quickly in this conversation and many may be put off by the charactization of Alistair in this little series, but it was to explore a hardened Alistair. I'm proud of what I wrote. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything and I earn nothing from this. ****

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****C.) Suturing the Wound (Alistair)**

***  
Memories consume  
Like opening the wound  
I'm picking me apart again  
You all assume  
I'm safe here in my room  
Unless I try to start again

I don't want to be the one  
The battles always choose  
'Cause inside I realize  
That I'm the one confused

I don't know what's worth fighting for  
Or why I have to scream  
I don't know why I instigate  
And say what I don't mean  
I don't know how I got this way  
I know it's not alright  
So I'm breaking the habit  
I'm breaking the habit  
Tonight

~ Breaking the Habit – Linkin Park

His words echoed in her head as they entered the room Anora had occupied during her stay at Eamon's estate together.

_We need to talk privately…_

Initially, Shanaya avoided looking at him. She had to gather her thoughts. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many things she could say, so many emotions trapped inside her to know where to start. She sat down on the settee, turning her luminous eyes upon him. She figured she'd let him have his say before she confessed everything on her mind.

"Becoming king wasn't something I had ever wanted. I'd told you time and again when we weren't at each other's throats how much the very thought terrified me, but I've thought about it. I'm starting to like the idea. I think I could even do some good. Obviously the nobility thinks **we** could do some good. That's what we need to talk about. How in the name of the Maker are we ever going to be able to co-exist as an effective ruling pair? We barely get along. I think I can count the amount of civil words we've ever said to each other on one hand. I've spent my entire life living under a black cloud of unhappiness. I've only ever had six months where I felt true joy, like I was actually part of something special. That was the six months I experienced after becoming a Warden. That happiness ended at Ostagar. I'm not about to spend the rest of my life as miserable as I've been in the past year since Ostagar. I can't do it, Shanaya. Furthermore, I won't live like this. So we need to work out just how we're going to do that." Alistair sat down across from her on the opposite settee. He didn't know how much more honest he could be with her.

Shanaya's emotions were in an upheaval. How could she even begin to tell him how she felt deep inside the hidden recesses of her soul? "Alistair, I know I'm an insufferable bitch. I'm mean and even more evil in your mind than Morrigan will ever be, but honestly, that's not the real me. All this bluster has been a defensive shield to keep the hurt and pain out. I've been so bitter since my entire life was destroyed that night when everything I ever loved and cared for was taken from me. I swore I'd never let anyone ever get that close to me again. I swore I'd never let anyone make me that vulnerable. I was determined to make everyone around me hate me because that was an easier emotion to deal with than anything else. I can't believe how well I succeeded. So well that it all tastes like ashes in my mouth." She rubbed her face, holding back the tears burning for release. "I can't promise I'll change quickly, but I'm willing to work on it. Maker's breath, Alistair, after everything, I don't understand how you could accept me at all."

"Given my choices, I felt it was better to go with the evil I knew rather than the evil I didn't," he cracked a half smile. "You punished Loghain. If I'd had to guess what I thought you would've done, that wasn't at the top of my list. Somehow I thought you'd betray me. I figured I'd end up being the one with the knife in my back. You've made your feelings toward me perfectly clear. I can say I've never understand why you've always treated me so abhorrently. I never understand what I did to make you hate me so, but I'd like to start over with you. I think it would be best if we wipe the slate clean once and for all and start fresh. Do you think that is possible?"

Shanaya sniffled, "Anything is possible, Alistair. Pushing everyone away was easier than letting myself care for anyone. It was a constant battle, one I nearly lost time and again. I had to keep everyone at arm's length, especially you. I couldn't let on just how you really affected me. You are sweet, funny, witty, sarcastic and incredibly handsome. You have a quiet strength that draws people to you. I couldn't bear to be drawn in by that in fear that you'd hurt me somehow. So I lashed out first, hurting you every chance I got. I couldn't let myself become that vulnerable again. Even now the very thought terrifies me."

"You equate caring for someone with being vulnerable." Confusion settled on his handsome features. "I'm not saying I'm an expert at love or those emotions, caring for someone, but it seems to me when two people care for each other, it makes them stronger."

"Not when your enemies find out and use that against you. I've lost so much, everything I've ever loved, ever cared for… it's all gone." Shanaya bowed her head, cupping it in her hands. "I couldn't lose you too. So I had to push you away and make you hate me, so no one could use what I felt against me. Don't you see? I did what I had to do."

Alistair sighed, rubbing his face. He didn't understand her logic. It made little sense to him that she would seek to protect him by hurting him herself. Then again, little she did made any sense to him anymore. He slipped off the settee, kneeling before her on his knees. His hands captured her face, brushing aside the tears leaking silently from her eyes. He'd never seen her cry before… ever. Her veneer had cracked. The second chink in her armor. The second crack in her resolve. This one felt like a finality, like everything he'd come to believe was wrong. "Shanaya, you haven't lost me. I care for you. I always have. Through it all, Maker help me," he murmured as his eyes met hers. "I'll give anything, do anything, but I need you to meet me halfway. Can you do that?"

She closed her eyes, fought to look away from the penetrating honeyed gaze before her. She didn't deserve someone this good. She knew in the long run she'd only cause him pain. "I don't know how," she whimpered.

"Then let's learn how together," he offered. "I must be crazy, but despite it all, I can't bear to imagine a life without you. You have been the one bright spot in all of this, despite all the despair I've felt. You've made me a better person, stronger even. I never would've made it through all this without you. I see you and my heart pounds like crazy. For better or for worse, I want you at my side, forever and always. Will you be my wife?"

"I—yes, Alistair, yes," Shanaya sobbed. Tears rolled down her cheeks as a flood of emotion consumed, overwhelmed her. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

A brief smile captured his lips, "You were and still are the most evil, insufferable bitch I've ever known, but there were times I'd catch these tiny glimpses past that hard façade you kept between you and the world. Like when you helped that little boy in Lothering or when you saved that Dalish hunter in the forest. I would've expected you to kill him like you did that wounded soldier in the Korcari Wilds, but no, you carried him back to his people. Sure, you didn't stay in Redcliffe to help them with their problems, but I understand why. You were haunted by the past. I could see the fear and regret in your eyes right before you left the chantry. You leaving me there gave me the strength to do what was needed. I owed the Arl so much. To top it all off, I was so surprised to find you at the camp we'd made not far from Redcliffe. I figured you would go off to find the Dalish without me, but you stayed. I couldn't figure out why. I didn't, however, believe that you stayed so we'd both be there when Arl Eamon had recovered."

"That time I took off on my own and none of you had known where I went…" she started, swallowing a sob.

"Where did you go? I was so worried about you."

"I went back to Highever. We were so close, being that we'd just reclaimed Soldier's Peak. It was like a siren's song. I had to go. I snuck back into the castle, my old home, by way of the servant's passage that I'd escaped from the first time. What I saw their horrified me. There were rotting corpses of people I'd known all my life. The stench was unbearable. I found my parent's bodies. Both were headless. I knew it was them by the remains of the clothing still clinging to their bodies. I sneaked around. Howe's men were still living in the castle, but I was able to sneak around it because I knew it better than any of them ever would. I killed a few just to sate my need for vengeance, but finally broke me was not seeing my parents heads on pikes… what broke me was finding Rory."

"Who was… is Rory?" Seeing the horror and grief in her eyes caused the breath to catch in his throat.

"Rory… he was the man I had loved more than anything… at the time. He was a knight in the castle. Bann Gilmore's son, to be exact… we grew up together. Rory had come to Castle Cousland as a squire at the age of eleven. We were roughly the same age… he was not quite a year older than me. We were always close, but as the two of us exited our teenage years, we became closer. I swore I loved him with every fiber of my being. My father discovered us one night. He caught us in the gardens kissing. He grounded me for a month and banished Rory from the castle. I was so angry with my father. That's when they came up with the idea to betroth me to Teagan. That didn't work out, for reasons you learned that day in Redcliffe. Still I never stopped loving Rory. A few years ago, he and I started seeing each other again. It was as covert as we could make it and no one discovered us. He was my first… my first love, my first kiss, my first lover. He took my virginity in the hay loft of the stables. We had finally decided we were going to run away together, lose ourselves in this big wide country, then the call from Cailan came for troops to join him at Ostagar. After my father had sent Fergus off with Highever's troops, Howe attacked, betraying my father. Rory made it possible for my mother and I to escape. I begged him to come with me, but he was more concerned about my well-being. I found him locked away in a small filthy cell in the bowels of the dungeons. He had been beaten, tortured, starved and left for dead. He was nothing but skin and bones. I barely recognized him. He begged me to end it for him. I wanted to drag him out of there and take him somewhere safe, but he whispered, 'If you ever loved me, kill me now.' I had no choice. I couldn't leave him like that. Can you imagine driving your blade into the flesh of someone you love? Of seeing the light fade in their eyes and knowing you're the cause. As I staggered out of that cell, I swore I'd never let anyone that close to me ever again. No one would ever be able to make me feel that much pain. I thought I'd feel relief when I killed Howe, but it all felt like ashes in my mouth. There was no joy in killing him. There was no joy in killing Loghain, either."

Alistair was speechless. He pulled her to him, embracing her in his arms, holding her tightly. His lips ghosted over her brow. He inhaled her scent, feeling the crispness of lavender tickle his senses.

"I swore I'd never love again, but I was lying to myself. I wanted you to hate me. Why? Why don't you hate me? Maker… I'll never be what you need. I'm broken and consumed by all the injustice I can't change. All I know is the first time I laid eyes on you at Ostagar I knew I'd never be able to hold true to my vow if I didn't make you hate me. I saw something inside you that I knew would strip away all my defenses, something that would heal me and make me feel whole again, but like a stupid jackass fool, I fought against it. I denied myself. I thought I would feel better if I pushed you away, if I just kept pushing… but I only felt worse." Shanaya clutched at him, threading her fingers through his hair, "Maker's mercy, Alistair, why doesn't it feel better?"

His arms squeezed her tighter, letting her know he had her. "We'll get through this, together, my dear. I'm here for you and I'll never leave you. We'll take it one step at a time. Trust me this time. You have to trust me."

"I—I do," her voice trembled warily.

Alistair cupped her face, wiped her tears away and looked her straight in the eyes. "Never forget how much I care for you." Then he dropped his gaze to her trembling lips. He didn't want to rush her, but he was dying to kiss her. He wanted her. He ached for her. His lips brushed hers, more akin to a soft whisper than anything else. The briefest caress, the lingering nearness ignited all the deep yearnings within him. His fingers grazed her back before coming up to cup her face. He traced the outline of her lips with his tongue before teasing them apart, slipping between to probe her mouth. Soon Shanaya found herself overcome by the sweetness of sensation. There was no hesitation about him. Liquid heat invaded every inch of her, searing her with sweet deliverance, allowing her to yield to her desires, to give to him in that first kiss all he demanded. No more could she deny what burned within her. No more could she hold back what she felt. Alistair had broken the ice, had shattered her resolve and had stripped away all her defenses. It was only right that he claim his prize. "That wasn't too soon, I hope," he whispered. He witnessed the light and fire ignite in her eyes. "Maker's breath, but you're beautiful. I am a lucky man."

**The End**


	7. The Storm

**A/N**: Dragon Age kmeme prompt...: Alistair may be a little shy, but there's one thing he can't resist. I'll leave the Warden's race, class and origin up to the author.

This doesn't exactly fit the prompt, cus he's not so shy in this one... This is nothing but PWP involving Alistair/F!Warden and wet frocks.

**Disclaimer**: Bioware owns everything and I earn nothing from this.

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Kallian could feel the storm flow through her body, energizing her with its power. She had always been like this - restless, feeling the blood rushing madly through her veins. Many a time, she had wished for someone to share it with you. Then she had found Alistair. He stood in a clearing by small moving brook in the forest...what had brought her to this place to meet this man? The warm rain pelted down on her face. She could feel the tension in him too. He practically radiated it. Alistair stood there; eyes closed feeling everything...the storm outside, the storm within. It set her nerves on edge.

Kallian ran to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. Yet he didn't move a muscle. It was as if he did not recognize her presence. Slowly, she slid her hands down his arms, moving to his waist and pulling him to her body. She trembled slightly, her hands curling into fists in an attempt to subdue the turmoil within herself. Still his eyes remained closed.

Alistair could feel the electricity in the air. It made Kallian a little crazy too. She went up on tiptoes to reach his ear. Very deliberately, since she knew he didn't like her teasing his ears, she blew softly into it. He gave a sharp cry and came alive, twisting around to press himself into her body. Kallian took his weight easily as she ran one hand through his wet hair.

Kallian's hands clutched at his back, as his lips claimed hers. This was no warm, loving kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth, boldly demanding a response. Kallian gave it. Her hands molded her body against his as she let loose all the wildness she restrained with everyone but him.

Lightning flashed above them lighting up the clearing for a split second. Kallian jerked against him, hands clenching behind his back. Then suddenly she shoved him away and ran. Alistair stood frozen in shock and then began to run after her.

They ran deeper into the woods. The rain coming down so hard that Alistair could barely make her running form out in front of him. Kallian was running so fast that he feared that she will slip on the muddy ground and slide down one of the steep inclines. Amazingly Kallian stayed on her feet, still racing with the wind. Her exultant laughter floated back on the wind to Alistair.

Suddenly she slid to a stop, doubling over to catch her breath, laughing breathlessly still. Alistair pulled her upright and propped her against a tree. Her clothes were soaked, her hair plastered against her brow but she seemed more alive now than he had ever seen her. Her eyes were aglow as she threw back her head, stretching her arms out and yelling. Alistair felt entranced by her. Who was this wild creature?

Her eyes came back to his face. He caught glimpses of the power in her eyes, and suddenly he had the wild notion that the storm's energy was in her, being channeled somehow through her to the outside.

Her gaze intensified. Her lips parted, her tongue slipping out to slide delicately over her lower lip.

"Do you want me?" Her voice sounded lower and huskier than normal.

"How could I not?" Alistair answered, his eyes drinking in the sight of her moving slowly against the tree. Kallian held out a hand to him.

"Then take what you want."

Alistair slowly laid her down onto the wet grass. Kallian allowed her body to fall with his, melting into the ground. Then swiftly, she twisted out from under his body, throwing a leg over him, propping herself over him, her glowing face alight with triumph. She caught his wrists and dragged them over his head, holding them down to the ground. Slowly, Kallian stretched out over Alistair, her large breasts poised over him, erect nipples clearly outlined through the wet frock.

"By the Maker... "

"You like?" Kallian purred.

"Like? Here's how much I like."

Alistair threw her off, pinning her down easily, shifting to let her feel the obvious arousal against her thigh.

"Tell me. How much do you want me to take what I want?"

Kallian groaned in response, thrusting up her hips against him. He laughed softly then bent down to suck her earlobe into his mouth. She tried to squirm away from him and the exquisite torture of his tongue.

"Do you want to feel my fingers slide deep into you?" Alistair murmured with a low, deliciously husky voice in her ear.

"Yes!" Kallian gasped.

The vibration of his voice sent tiny muscle spasms running down Kallian's side. A wet tongue slid around the shell of her ear. Kallian shrieked. Then the lightning flashed again and Kallian arched against Alistair's firm lithe body, suddenly filled with the need for passion and power.

"Please, I need you now." She groaned.

Alistair cocked his head in mock surprise.

"Now where's that woman who spends our days and nights endlessly teasing me? Can't you stand it when the shoe's on the other foot?"

He bent down swiftly to sweep his tongue over the sensitive side of her neck. Kallian groaned as her body writhed restlessly beneath him.

"Too bad," Alistair continued silkily. "I'm going to take my time and I'm going to see you go crazy with pleasure."

Swiftly Alistair surged to his feet and reached down to pull her up. Backing away slightly, his intense eyes holding Kallian's, Alistair began to strip. Her heart leapt into her throat and remained there as he finally stood there in front of her. A wave of giddiness swept over her as her eyes traveled over his body. Proud, naked, beautiful. Framed by the storm. Her fantasy had come to life.

Sobered a little by the depth of her emotions, Kallian lifted her hands to her buttons and began to shed her clothes, using the grace inherent to all elves. Soon she too was bare; her skin prickling in the wind that rustled the leaves around the two lovers. Alistair made the first step, backing Kallian into a tree.

The feel of his firm body pressed against hers, his hardness trapped against the soft flesh of her tummy, becoming more like a dream by the minute. The knot of tension within Kallian tightened as her breathing became shallow. Alistair bent his head ever so slowly to nuzzle at her neck. His wet tongue stroked up to her ear and then down again, tantalizing every single nerve ending on the way. Kallian's nails dug into his forearms as muscles in her buttocks contracted with exquisite slowness.

Thunder crashed above them and a fresh fall of rain poured its way through the leaf cover onto them. The heat of Alistair' body burned through the chill as his hands moved over her body, touching, stroking, and spreading the water over her breasts.

Suddenly, she came to life again, wrapping her arms around Alistair's neck and pulling his head down for an intense, satisfying kiss. One bare leg lifted and hooked over his hip as she pulled him into her body.

Alistair could feel the heat of her mound pressing against his hip, more than just tempting him to plunge into its warm depths. But Alistair found he was enjoying himself way too much to end it so soon. Instead, he slipped one hand down her side, following the smooth curve of her bottom and stroking along her raised thigh. He broke away from the kiss, looking deep into her stormy eyes as his hand slid between their bodies and into the heat and wetness waiting for him.

Kallian gave a sharp gasp, pressing back against the tree as his cool fingers parted her outer lips and drove into her. He could feel her inner muscles contracting around his fingers and crooked them forwards to find her pleasure spot. Slowly he started to stroke the sensitive tissue, softly at first and then with more pressure.

Kallian buried her face in his neck, stifling her moans into his shoulder. Her nails dug into his upper arms as she held on for dear life.

Carefully, he added his thumb to the concerto, finding her throbbing nubbin, and started on the exact same rhythm used inside her.

"No! Stop! Please...I can't stand it." Kallian cried.

Kallian shot away from him and grabbed his hand to still it. A second later he pinned her to the tree, immobilizing her with his own body.

"Relax. Don't fight it." Alistair murmured into Kallian's ear, as he started up again.

"Oh... please...no. I can't..."

Alistair sped up the tempo. Harsh cries started to escape her, her body tensing up against him. It had been a long time since she had felt such violent pleasure in her life. Kallian needed to scream, to tear into him, anything to keep from going insane.

Alistair managed to keep her upright as her legs melted way, concentrating on keeping the pressure of his fingers intense all the while. Yet his own body is on fire, as he watched the ecstasy in Kallian's eyes, feeling her muscles start to contract involuntarily.

Her scream came with the thunder, and then again and again as her orgasms tore into her with a force never before imagined.

Alistair held her then, feeling the aftershocks run through her exhausted body long after she had climaxed. His body was throbbing unmercifully after watching Kallian's explosive crests, every fiber straining to thrust into her with all the power he had.

Her hand wrapped around his shaft and he gasped at the contact. Kallian leaned over Alistair, her eyes dark with a dangerous sexuality. The storm was still going strong. Maybe they WERE connected somehow.

She caught his wrists and dragged them back over his head, holding them to the ground. Slowly, she stretched over him, her breasts poised temptingly over him. A very familiar smile spread over her lips. She looked at him lewdly and whispered in his ear...

"Now where was I...?"


	8. One Rainy Night

**Disclaimer:** Bioware owns everything... I'm just borrowing them.

**A/N:** _I thought I'd try to go for something warm and fuzzy in a kind of PWP sort of way. Obviously this is Post-Blight, Alistair as King and Kallian as Mistress. Thank you to all who have set faves, reviewed or simply read and lurked. _

* * *

It was quiet inside the newly remodeled Alienage house, dark outside. The sky beheld the midnight black of storms. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in its quicksilver fashion, leaving an imprint of blue behind it.

Kallian listened to the gentle patter of rain thudding quietly against the glass. The sound gave her a melancholy ache. It was a sound that should be shared, enjoyed while they were wrapped together, whispering things to each other that only they could understand. She leaned her chin into her hand and yearned silently for that which was only a dream, a wish. She watched the pattern the rain made on the glass of the window and thought of him. He wondered what he was doing. Was he safe? Warm? Was he happy where he was? And one last almost desperate question invaded her thoughts. Was he thinking of her?

A tear slipped down her face, across the angular slope of her cheek. She let it fall, wishing that she could let free her sorrow and loneliness but knew that she was in a misery of her own making. She must be strong. She must be steadfast in her resolve to stay away from him. She had her duty and he had his. Seeing to the Alienage was her first priority. Seeing that her people had enough food, clothing and shelter had to come first. The lightning flashed again and she started. A shadow, strange and foreboding, appeared in the entry of the room. Her hand searched out a dagger, her heart pounding in his throat.

He walked into the room, wet and cold from the rain. There is but one thought in his mind. Kallian.

He strode toward her and only at the last second did she recognize him in the last piercing flash of light. Alarm turned to an overwhelming joy that was as sweeping and all encompassing as the unease had been. He was here, with her.

She wrapped her arms around his body and her mouth sought his lips, chilled lips that she warmed with her own.

"I couldn't stay away," he whispered between desperate kisses. "I know I should, but you're everything to me, Kallian. Don't ask me to leave again."

Kallian's hands cupped his face, her eyes probing his. What she saw in their depths brought forth lightness, and removed the despair from her soul. "Stay with me," she whispered against his lips.

Alistair picked Kallian up, carrying her like precious fragile china to the bed, laying her on sheets that were twisted and tangled from his restless attempts at sleep. His hands swept down her body, in one long caress as if making sure that she was actually real. Alistair pulled away and tore off his wet clothing, dropping them forgotten to the floor. Then he came to her, pressing his cold body against her warmth.

Alistair's hands trembled as he skimmed over her shoulders, feather light. Their eyes met and soon they were lost in what was between them, a love that neither of them could have dared believe in. The back of his hand touched her cheek and slid back until his fingers were buried in her hair.

"I love you, Kallian. I need you." The words were lost against her lips as he pressed his against hers. The kiss deepened as tongues danced together. The heat between them quickly turned to a blaze. They had been apart for far too long and neither of their passions could be denied.

Kallian's hands caressed his brawny chest, over his back, holding him closely to her. She slid her fingers into the silky strands of his hair, her hands gentle and rough at the same time. Then she moaned as he cupped her bare breast and let out a hiss of pleasure as his mouth captured her nipple and began to suckle. At that moment, she lost what little breath she had left as feelings of such heat and aching need settled between her creamy thighs.

Her hands delved further into his hair, holding him to her as her legs slid up around his hips. Her back arched, pushing her body tighter against him, demanding more from him.

The elf twisted beneath the human, pushing him back and over until she straddled him. His eyes burned deeply as the cerulean blue depths ignited a spark blazing hot as they roamed over her body. Kallian smiled down at her lover as the fiery strands of her waist length hair slid around them, screening the two of them in.

Her mouth quickly found his, a short teasing kiss, moving before Alistair could deepen it. She kissed his jaw, nipping gently with her teeth, and nibbled a trail to his ear. A very male 'mmmm' escaped from his throat as she lapped his earlobe with her tongue. That simple act provoked her to do more, to tease him even though Kallian knew Alistair wanted her, wanted to lose himself inside of her.

She grinned down at him, a wild wicked grin that let him know that he was in trouble… the kind of trouble that only she can give him. His hands caressed her thighs slipping up to cup her ass even as she moved over him. Her mouth found his throat. He smelled so good, a combination of whatever spicy scent he used and him, the scent that was designed for only her to find. The scent that drove her mad.

Her lips moved to his shoulders, his chest. She lapped at his flat nipples until they were rigid and his hands were wrapped in her hair. He moaned softly, moving under her. Her stomach pressed against his hips and she could feel the long hard length of him nudging against her. She quickly located his belly button, letting her tongue slide inside, and nibbled on the skin around it all the while her hands skimmed his powerful thighs. His hips moved against her, bucking rhythmically against her. He gave to her a delirious power over his flesh that was almost as erotic as he. The mere thought that Kallian could make him mindless with pleasure drove her further into oblivion. Her hand slipped over him to measure his hardened length, letting him know that she heartily approved with a feminine moan of her own. Alistair pushed against her hand and Kallian looked up into his eyes. His face glowed with intense pleasure, his eyes hot as they peered into hers. The mere thought sent another flash of need barreling through her, to be with him in her bed, his beloved head on her pillows after thinking that they were never to be with each other again.

Kallian fought back a shiver at that thought. Alistair caressed her shivering flesh, his hands hot as he tried to warm her.

She traced one finger down his hard cock and watched it buck before taking it in her hand.

Two words escaped from between his lips as she moved her hand up and down his length. "Please, Kallian."

Her tongue slipped over her lips, harvesting a groan from him. Then she slowly parted them and engulfed his cock inside her mouth. The taste of him caused her to squirm against his legs. Teasing her in return, Alistair pushed his knee between her thighs. With a groan around his meaty member, she pressed down until he could feel her wetness seeping from her pussy.

Alistair ran his hands through her hair, guiding the pace of her mouth over his cock. Kallian sucked slowly, letting her tongue swirl around his bulbous tip, as she slowly took him deeper and deeper down her throat. She loved the way he felt, the smell of him, the taste of his cock in her mouth. She could hear his breathing getting heavier, his movements becoming more erratic against her body.

Kallian wanted him to lose himself to her drawing mouth, to give her all of him like he'd done before, but he pulled me away, dragging her back up to him with hands that were rough with the pleasure she'd caused.

Kallian loved it when he became like this, fierce but tender, and almost bursting with need. He became masterful, his hands sweeping and strong. No longer did she feel like a mistress. Kallian felt like a woman, his woman. He cursed her before finding her lips with his in a kiss that raged in fire and heat. His hands pulled at her, making her moan lustily. His hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers slowly delving into the wetness he found there. He glided into her, amazed as always by how tight she was, how hot she felt around his finger. He knew that when he finally pushed himself inside her, she'd surround him with her glorious heat that would milk him dry.

Kallian dragged her mouth from his trying to catch her breath at the way he was making her feel. His finger skimmed over her clit, tortured it until she was all but begging him to take her. Alistair's name escaped her lips as he pushed her over the edge into maddening bliss.

And soon after Kallian could feel him stretching her, his hard cock slowly pushing inside of her body as she drifted back down from her overwhelming orgasm. His movements were slow yet amazingly fluid as her channel engulfed him an inch at a time. Her hips bucked as pleasure pierced her core, sharp and needful. Kallian arched her back and pushed up against him, desperate for everything he had to give her, wanting to feel his hips grind against hers. The feelings and the magic of his embrace became overwhelming… instantaneous, the fulfillment, and the need, unstoppable.

Alistair's hands gripped her thighs, pulling them up and pushing her legs up to slip over his shoulders so that she could take even more of him. Kallian's breath caught in her throat as liquid heat pulsed inside of her in waves so intense, she let out a scream. He thundered against her, the hard slap of flesh against flesh sharp and beautiful in her ears. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in the wild floral scent of her. "Kallian, my love, you consume me," he whispered as his tongue traced her ear from lobe to pointy tip. "You are everything to me."

Alistair's final thrusts ground against her and Kallian exploded from the sheer pleasure as he hammered against her sweet spot, mashing her clit against his pubic bone. She shuddered and writhed beneath him even as he pulsated inside her dripping sheath, long, hot, wet spurts fueling her heady orgasm even more. His hands gripped her arms, his mouth caressing her ear. The words he whispered made me erupt one last time.

"You're mine, Kallian, my love. I can't give you up. I won't let you go. Don't you see, my love? We were meant to be together." He released her legs, letting them fall to the mattress as her body continued to tremble from her overwhelming release. Then he wrapped her up fully in his arms, cradling her body against his.

Kallian's heart swelled as a flush settled over her skin. This was where she belonged. For right or wrong, he had finally come home. That intense feeling filled her. And for right or wrong, he had given her the most precious gift ever. His love.


	9. Rose Amongst the Brambles

**Disclaimer:** Bioware owns everything... I'm just borrowing them.

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"Hello Ferelden's rose  
May you ever grow in our hearts  
You are the grace that placed itself  
Where lives were torn apart  
Hello Ferelden's rose  
From a country lost without a soul  
We'll need the wings of your compassion  
More than you'll ever know."  
"Candle in the Wind" (reworded to fit this story)

* * *

The Queen had been rescued, had asked to speak to him when he had a moment. Jacen closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The very same woman he'd dreamed about, fantasized about and measured as the bar for other women had asked to speak to him alone. Jacen was no novice when it came to women. He was no novice when it came to matters of sex and intimacy, but the thought of being alone with such a beautiful, powerful woman turned his stomach to butterflies, caused his palms to go all clammy. He gulped past the lump in his throat then tried to focus on what Eamon was saying.

"Warden, are you listening?"

Jacen opened his eyes, turning his gaze to the arl, "Huhn?"

"Apparently not," Alistair guffawed, "Just where was your mind, Jacen? Was it focused on Anora?"

Jacen cleared his throat, "Sorry, Eamon, what were you saying?"

"I said you should speak with Anora as she requested. She will either be a powerful ally or a powerful enemy and the sooner we know which the better," Eamon repeated, giving the younger man a sour look.

"Eamon, I understand why you wish to see Alistair take Maric's throne, but I think as long as we bring down Loghain, we should leave Anora as the ruling monarch. She's a great queen. Besides, Alistair is a Grey Warden. He's happy being a Warden. He may not stand up to you and tell you that, but I will, not only as the last surviving Cousland, but as Alistair's fellow comrade in arms."

Eamon's sour expression darkened, "Anora was a capable administrator for Cailan's lands, but she has not a drop of royal blood. We did not fight the Orlesians all those years to lose our royal line in a single generation. Not when there is a surviving son of the blood."

Jacen flashed Eamon an incredulous look, "Hah! If I remember my father's tales of the rebellion, you were only fifteen years old when the Rebel Queen died and were being kept in the Free Marches by your father. So it seems to me that YOU weren't one of the freedom fighters. My father did fight during the rebellion and if I know him, he'd support Anora. He always has supported their reign. When much of the Bannorn wanted him to take the throne after Maric died, he declined in favor of Cailan and henceforth, Anora. Disrupting the governance of our country in a time like this to give the throne to someone who is untrained and unwanting would be stupid at best and suicidal at worst. Sorry, Alistair, but I know you well enough to know that you are better served remaining as you are."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, not that I want the throne. I think Anora is a great queen," Alistair replied.

"I'm going to speak to Anora. I have a good idea why she wants to speak to me alone," Jacen sighed as butterflies returned. "Then I'm headed for the Alienage. Be ready to go with me, Alistair."

* * *

Jacen stood outside Anora's room, his fist paused midair before the door. He had only to knock. The clamminess had returned to his palms. He wiped them on the trousers of the fine burgundy and gold outfit he had donned. He didn't wish to appear before the queen in grimy blood stained armor. He knew he'd have to get it cleaned soon. With one more deep breath, he knocked loudly. A moment later, Erlina appeared, opening the door. "My lady is expecting you," she spoke, opening the door wide enough to allow Jacen entrance.

He noticed Anora sitting on the settee, sipping something from a delicate china cup. He could only assume it was tea, considering the tea service sitting upon the nearby table. She glanced up at him before setting the cup aside. His approach was slow, almost calculated, then he took a seat on the opposite settee, "My lady, you wished to speak with me?"

Anora turned her big blue eyes upon Jacen as a small smile crossed her lips, "Yes, I did. First, let me say that I knew your family. Eleanor in particular was dear to me, and what Howe did… was unforgivable. How fitting he died at your hands."

Jacen returned her smile, inclining his head gracefully. "I thank you, my lady. I can't even begin to express the depth of my loss, but knowing they went down fighting gives me some comfort. I know why you wish to speak to me and we will get to that, but first, I have a few things for you."

A curious expression crossed her face. She watched intently as Jacen pulled forth a beaten leather pack. Recognition gripped her, turning her expression severe. She knew that pack had belonged to Cailan. Her eyes widened as Jacen moved from the adjacent settee to the one she sat on. Her eyes followed his every movement as he reached inside, pulling a small pouch.

"During my travels, I encountered Elric Maraigne. He had deserted the battlefield at Ostagar and had been captured and held by Bann Loren. He told me that Cailan had entrusted him with the key to the royal arms chest, but fearing he'd lose it on the battlefield, he hid it in the camp. He asked me to recover it, to recover Cailan's documents and Maric's sword from the camp. I did. I returned to Ostagar a few months ago. I found the key. The items in the chest are safely in Grey Warden hands. Alistair has Maric's sword. I thought it was only appropriate, and yes, as you saw, he is wearing Cailan's armor. He needed a suit of armor that would provide better protection, so that is why he is wearing it. If you wish to have it as a remembrance, I can pry it off him," Jacen chuckled. "Moreover, we found Cailan's body and gave him a royal send-off."

Jacen handed her the pouch he held in his hands. "These are a small portion of Cailan's ashes. I thought it was important that you have them."

Anger and grief flashed over her face, "My thanks," she spoke up after a few minutes of silence. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"I think I do, and that's why I wanted to make sure you had them," he handed the pack to her. "There are other items in there that we recovered from the chest. Much of it is Cailan's correspondence with Empress Celene. I don't know if that'll mean anything to you, but I thought it best to make sure you had it, lest it fall into the wrong hands."

Anora cocked a thin blond eyebrow at him, "You mean my father, perhaps."

"Precisely," Jacen nodded. "I remember being at Ostagar. I had been newly joined to the Wardens. Cailan requested my presence at the war council before that fateful battle. I remember being somewhat miffed at Cailan for not allowing me to fight in the battle. He had decided that Alistair and I would go to the Tower of Ishal for the beacon lighting. I had a bad feeling that something was amiss by the way Loghain spoke to him, by the look in his eye. I knew he was up to something. He near insisted that all Wardens be on the field, that his men would light the beacon. I think he wanted everyone to die. He wanted no survivors to contradict his version of what happened. You are aware he sent assassins after us. The Antivan Crows were hired to kill Alistair and me."

"I had no inkling of what my father had planned until Cailan was already dead." She lowered her eyes momentarily before gazing back at him. "Considering all that has happened I can see it was all a part of a grander scheme. Eamon's poisoning, Bryce's death and then Cailan's, if only we had solid proof."

"I agree, my lady. It seems Loghain covered all the bases when he decided to take power. He is a master strategist, after all. It just means we will have to work all that much harder to discredit him before the Landsmeet. I have spoken to a few nobles recently…men and women who knew my father well, who respected him and are angered by what happened at Highever. We have allies. Now that I've said my piece, I suppose we should turn matters to why I'm here speaking to you." Jacen replied, "I already know what you're going to ask, so let me lay my cards on the table before you. You asked me here in hopes that I support your bid in the Landsmeet to remain queen, am I correct?"

"You are. I will be blunt. I can see that your voice will be a strong one in days to come. It is to you that Eamon listens, and with good reason. My father must be stopped, but once that is done Ferelden will need a ruler. I would welcome your support for my throne."

Jacen smiled, his dark eyes glittering mischievously. "If an alliance is what you are proposing, then I would ask what's in it for me. It seems you are asking me to side against my comrade in arms."

"Just hear me out. When the time comes, you support my bid in the Landsmeet to remain on the throne. You will be seen as my father's enemy, yet you will be in support of his daughter. You will be seen as supporting the interests of Ferelden as opposed to solely those of the Grey Wardens. In return, I add my voice to yours. Do you see? Together we can do what alone we cannot." Anora pursed her lips, eyeing him speculatively before she spoke again, "Once I am queen, I will be in a position to grant you whatever you wish. And I shall. This is in addition to Highever being properly restored to you. That should go without saying, I trust. Alistair might promise you the same, I suppose, but I would ask which is better: the gratitude of a weak king or of a strong queen?"

"And what if you had a strong king to rule beside you?" There he had said it. It was out in the open, a possibility where there had once been no hope.

"Tempting," she replied as a muscle ticked in her cheek. "You... are of Cousland blood; it's true, despite the fact that you are also a Grey Warden. It would be unprecedented, but... A man like you could make a fine prince and consort. Is this what you are actually proposing? My hand for your support?"

"That is what I'm proposing, my lady. Marry me and you'll have my undivided support."

Her lips twitched once more and reluctantly she agreed, "Hmmm. Very well. It is too good an opportunity to pass up. Once I am coronated, I will take your hand as my consort. So we have a deal, Warden. I trust you'll keep your end of the bargain... now, I suppose, comes the task of dealing with my father."

"You could call me by my name, my lady. I'd much prefer Jacen over Warden and let me put your mind at ease." Jacen slipped off the settee and knelt before Anora, taking a hold of her hand. "As a Grey Warden and a Cousland, I give you my word that I will keep my end of the bargain. Trust me, my lady. I will not fail you."

"Once I have taken you as my consort, what will stop you from taking my power?" Anora asked as she eyed him warily.

"Let me say this now and get it all out into the open. I'm not after your power. Honestly and you may think I'm silly and you may change your mind about this altogether, but for the past several years, you have been the bar that I've always judged other women by. I know it's silly, especially since for most of that time you've been another man's wife. I would never wish death on anyone to get what I wanted, not when it has come at such a cost, but I remember seeing you from afar a few years back here in Denerim. You had made an appearance at a festival and from that moment, I swore I would marry no other woman, much to my mother's dismay. You are beautiful and intelligent and everything a man could want. I know you loved Cailan. It's written in your eyes. You wear it on your skin. I'm not asking you to give that up. I know this isn't a love match, but maybe someday you'll come to care about me as much as I do you."

"Honestly, Warden, I think I would be better equipped to deal with you being after my power rather than my heart. I find it hard to understand how you could care for me when you don't even know me all that well." Anora replied, coolly.

Jacen licked his lips, "Maybe I said too much too soon. Just trust me, my lady. As I said, I will not fail you. I'll see you on your throne where you belong. You have my word on that." Jacen pushed himself to his feet, bowed then headed for the door.

* * *

The Landsmeet had ruled in favor of Jacen and the Wardens. Jacen had even gone as far as allowed Alistair to execute Loghain. He knew he dare not be the one to do it himself, even though he had longed to. That final bit of vengeance would allow his father's spirit rest peacefully. He knew he dare not or he'd lose his chance with Anora. He closed his eyes and looked away, not bearing the sight of seeing Anora grieve over the broken body of her father. Eamon called the Landsmeet to a brief recess in order to clear the floor of Loghain's body. That time gave Anora the chance to change her blood stained dress. She reappeared, standing beside Eamon as he called the Landsmeet back to order.

He nodded at Alistair, "So it is decided. Alistair will take his father's throne."

Jacen glared at the older man. No way in all the hells was he getting away with this. A confused look crossed Alistair's face as he glanced from Jacen to Eamon and back again. "Wait, what? No! When did this get decided? Nobody's decided that, have they?" Images of an old recurring nightmare of him standing in a crowd without any pants flashed through his mind. He groaned helplessly.

Anora seized the moment, beaming proudly, "He refuses the throne. Everyone here has heard him. I think it is clear then, that he abdicates in favor of me."

"I hardly think you're the appropriate person to mediate this, Anora. Warden, will you help us?" With a glowering frown, Eamon turned to Jacen. "As victor of the Landsmeet and as the arbiter of this dispute, what is your decision? Who will lead Ferelden?"

"Yes, Eamon, I can and will settle this. My decision is thus. Anora will remain queen and I shall rule at her side as her husband."

Gasps came from many members of the Landsmeet while Eamon flashed Jacen a look that could kill, but Jacen ignored it, instead focusing on Anora. "My queen, will you address the Landsmeet?"

She nodded gracefully at him. "My first act as queen must be to insist on receiving Alistair's oath, before all the Landsmeet, to relinquish all claims to the throne for himself and his heirs."

Alistair smiled, "Oh, I **never** wanted it. I mean... yes. Of course. Happily, in fact."

Then she turned her attention to the assembled crowd, "And now, lords and ladies of Ferelden. There is still a Blight to defeat and armies to gather, and I appoint this man to lead us in both. We will not allow this land to be further threatened by the archdemon. Gather your forces and await the king-consort's command. On the morrow, we shall begin our struggle against the greatest threat Ferelden has ever faced. And we shall triumph over it, for we **are** Fereldan!

* * *

The archdemon lie dead, a crumpled mass of mangled flesh and broken bone. The flash that erupted from it as its life-force exploded threw Jacen off his feet, sending him reeling back a dozen feet or more. He impacted the battlement with enough force to splinter the stone, crying out in pain before the specter of death's cold embrace whisked him away into nothing but blackness. The old mage Wynne rushed to his side, quickly casting a healing enchantment. The First Enchanter joined her, adding his power as they fought to keep Jacen out of death's hands. He had saved them all, bravely taking on Urthemiel by his lonesome after he had watched his friends and allies weaken and fall before the archdemon's corrosive gouts of flame. Many of the surviving mages sought out the wounded heroes, the small group composed of Alistair, Zevran and Morrigan. Though bleeding profusely from a wound to her midsection, Morrigan channeled what little spellpower she possessed, immediately changing into a bird. She flew away with nary a goodbye.

Once the mages had healed the wounds both Alistair and Zevran had received during the rooftop battle, they both rushed to Jacen's side, noting the blood which stained the stone beneath him. The battle had taken a heavy toll on his body as well as the archdemon's retributive explosion. The healers worked furiously over him, exhausting their mana reserves to heal the wounded hero. Finally, after much time had passed, Wynne announced that Jacen would live, would suffer no adverse effects from his wounds. Carefully his body was immobilized and carried off the roof on a travois to the palace, which remained one of the few buildings without much damage.

A few weeks passed before Jacen was able to get up and move about on his own free will. It was then he learned that Anora's coronation had been postponed until he was well enough to attend the festivities. Following her coronation, a ceremony would be held to honor the heroes, those living and dead, who'd fought to save the city during the darkspawn siege of Denerim. Jacen knew at this ceremony that Anora would officially announce their engagement. It was a moment Jacen looked forward to. He hadn't seen much of her since the battle, though Wynne had confessed in secret that Anora had sat by his bedside quite a bit, especially during a few touch and go moments when even the most skilled healers feared they would lose him. Knowing she'd been there for him made Jacen smile. Perhaps she wasn't entirely icy and aloof. Perhaps his tender confession to her before they'd won the Landsmeet had touched her heart. Jacen wasn't about to question it, though. Wynne had also told him that Leliana all but refused to leave his side. The Orlesian bard spent all her waking hours with Jacen, even going as far as sleeping on a settee in Jacen's suite. It was said she only left when Anora asked for a few moments of privacy with her future husband. Surely Anora knew about Jacen's relationship with the bard. He also knew that he would have to have a talk with Leliana. It wouldn't be fair to either woman.

Jacen readied himself for the ceremony, donning his repaired and polished golden armor. It felt like a second skin, remarkably comfortable as it protected him from the worst. He wanted to look his best today. Still a pang of sadness filled him as he wished his mother and father could have been there. Still he had no clue as to what fate had befallen Fergus. Months had passed without word of his whereabouts yet Jacen had staunchly refused to believe Fergus was dead, especially since Anora had restored the Highever teyrnir to the Couslands.

He frowned as a knock came at the door. He'd left word that he was not to be disturbed this morning, even Leliana was absent from his side. He wondered briefly where she had gone to, but knew he'd see her at the ceremony. Pushing that curiosity from his thoughts, he called out to whoever was knocking, knowing if he was being disturbed, there would be a good reason behind it, "The door is open!"

Leliana poked her head into the room, keeping the door mostly closed, "There's someone here to see you, sweet Jacen."

Jacen cocked an eyebrow, "Who? And is it so important that it has to be now?"

Leliana nearly squawked with indignation of being pushed aside as the party in question brushed passed him, moving into the room. "Are you so important now that you can't spare a moment for your long lost older brother?"

Jacen's eyes grew to the size of saucers as that voice penetrated his thoughts. He whipped around, joyfully crying out, "Fergus!" before embracing his brother in a giant hug. Unspent tears burned his eyes. "I was just thinking about you, wondering where you were, if you were still alive. How is this possible? How did you get here?"

"Your lovely bride-to-be made this possible. She sent out soldiers who braved the Korcari Wilds. I'd been recuperating amongst the Chasind. When I learned of what was happening to the rest of Ferelden, I stayed in the Wilds until I was sure it was safe to leave. By the time I left, you were already marching to Denerim. On the way here, I came across Bann Gilmore's estate and I was delighted to discover that Ser Roland actually survived Howe's treachery in Highever. He filled me in on all that occurred then Anora told me the rest. How very fitting that Howe died at your hands," Fergus's lips curled with disdain.

"Yes, it felt good to kill him. I ran him through with the Cousland family blade. I have avenged Mother, Father, Oren, Oriana and everyone else he murdered when he attacked the castle." Jacen replied, "Sometimes I feel so helpless that I couldn't save them all."

"You saved the entire country from the Blight, little brother. Mother and Father would be so proud of you. I know I am. I only wished I'd been there to help you kill him."

"I assume you've met with Anora, yes? She promised me she'd restore Highever to the Couslands." Jacen inquired, "The truth is, brother, part of me is apprehensive about seeing the castle again. I know I need to go back at some point and give you a hand with whatever needs to be done there, but the thought of seeing it all again just tears my heart to shreds. I almost think I'd rather face the archdemon again."

"It will be difficult for me as well. The castle won't be the same without everyone, most of all Oren and Oriana." Fergus gave a wan smile before he rubbed his face tiredly. "There is one question that Ser Gilmore couldn't answer for me. Were either Oren or Oriana tortured or mutilated?"

"No, they weren't. Both died while still asleep. They were still in their beds when Mother and I found them. One of our guardsmen was in the room as well. I can only assume he was trying to protect them," Jacen replied. "Mother went down fighting. She stayed with Father and made it possible that I escape. I wanted to carry Father out of there, but he wouldn't hear it. He was adamant that I survive."

"Knowing they were together at the very end gives me some comfort, but knowing that Howe burned their bodies in a communal pile with everyone else does not," Fergus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ser Gilmore claimed Howe took Father's head as a souvenir. That angers me to no end."

"As it does me," Jacen concurred. "When I took up the quest to find Andraste's Ashes, which were needed to cure Eamon, I encountered Father again."

Fergus's eyes went wide, "How is that possible?"

"There was this guardian who watched over the ashes. It had to be some kind of magic, but to get to the ashes we had to make it through four tests of faith. Those tests were mentally and emotionally grueling, meant to discern the true believers from the false, I suppose. In between the first and second test, I encountered Father… or perhaps it was his spirit. I'm not sure, but he gave me an amulet and told me I'd have to be strong in order to survive what was to come next. He bade me to stop living in the past; he said nothing awaited me there and while he and Mother would always love me and would always be looking out for me, it was time that I let them go. It is strange, though. During the worst of my recovery from the injuries I sustained from killing the archdemon, I felt their presence with me. It lent me strength to fight, to live."

"That's the most incredible thing I've ever heard. I can't begin to tell you how relieved I am that you are alive, and marrying the queen. I can only imagine what Mother would have to say," Fergus chuckled. "And oh, Ser Gilmore accompanied me to Denerim. He is also looking forward to seeing you. He'll be at the ceremony, which is due to begin at any time."

"It'll be good to see him. I'm happy not to be the only survivor from the castle. As for what Mother would say, knowing her she'd start nagging me for legitimate grandchildren. She was doing _that_ before all this happened." Jacen chuckled, "Anora would blanch with horror at the thought of bearing a child."

"You think so?"

"I know so. The only reason she agreed to marry me was to secure her throne. Without my support, she wouldn't have come out of that Landsmeet with her queenship intact. Eamon would have had Alistair take Maric's throne instead. It was touch and go for a few tense moments. My support of Alistair executing her father got her knickers in twist." Jacen ran his hand through his hair. "Riordan wanted to put him through the Joining and make him a Grey Warden. There was no way in hell that Alistair would have ever stood for that and I wasn't about to risk having someone at my back that I could trust. Alistair is my best friend. I wouldn't sacrifice that just to have an experienced general on our side."

"How does he feel about not being king? I'd been told that he's Maric's bastard."

Jacen nodded, "He is, but he was never interested in being king. Alistair is happy being a Grey Warden. To hear him tell it, he'd rather not be the person sitting on the throne making decisions that affect other people's lives. It's just not him. Of the two of us, he was the senior Grey Warden, but he put me in charge of our little group. I made all the decisions." Jacen leaned against the mantelpiece, resting his forehead against the cold stone. "I think the only thing I regret about Loghain's execution is that I couldn't do it myself. As much as I tell myself he deserved death for everything he did, there is part of me that would have liked to spare Anora the horror of seeing her father lying dead in a pool of his own blood. It's an image that can't be so easily erased from memory. I know marrying Anora is an alliance of convenience, especially for her. She would rather rule alone. The thing is I do care for her. You know how I've always worshipped her from afar, how Mother nagged me to settle down and give her another grandchild. I never understood why she didn't insist on raising my bastard children in the castle. I know they wouldn't have received the same upbringing as Oren, but I would've at least been a father to them. I don't even know if they're alive or not. I do know the elven mothers were given a comfortable pay-off and the babes became wards of the Chantry. I think I'll have to look into that."

"As king-consort, I imagine you'll be able to locate them, but don't you think Anora will disapprove?"

"Probably," Jacen shrugged, glancing around the room. He noticed Leliana hadn't remained for the Cousland brother's reunion. "Did you see where Leli went?"

Fergus shook his head, "No."

"Well, I imagine I'll catch her later," Jacen chuckled.

"So tell me, little brother, how are you going to manage to keep Leliana while married to Anora?" Fergus quipped.

"I… suppose I'll be ending things with Leliana. I don't want to hurt her. She's aware of the impending marriage."

"Better you than me to have to choose between two beautiful women. Now let's get you to your lovely bride's coronation. The sooner that is over and done with, the sooner we can crack open a bottle of the best wine this palace has to offer and celebrate the end of your independence!"

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather celebrate with," Jacen's mirthful smile proved to be infectious, as Fergus was soon sporting one as well. "Shall we? Best not to keep my lady waiting."

* * *

Jacen watched from the sidelines as Anora was sworn in by Grand Cleric Emelena as Ferelden's sovereign leader. She was a beautiful sight to behold, kneeling as she recited her oath. His heart swelled with pride as naughty thoughts filled his head. He had no clue what their personal relationship would be like, yet he couldn't get the image of her kneeling before him in all her naked blonde glory as she took his hardened cock into her mouth out of his head. A small groan escaped his lips followed by an uncomfortable shift in his stance. Fergus nudged him, raising an eyebrow curiously. He smirked knowingly then leaned in to whisper, "Whatever you're thinking, I'm sure you'll have your chance soon enough."

"I can only hope," Jacen quipped then turned to watch his lovely queen waving to the crowd. "By the Maker, she's beautiful. I can scarcely believe how lucky I am."

"You've always had a certain way with people, little brother," Fergus agreed, "You are quite lucky."

"Truthfully, as beautiful and well put together as she is part of me longs to dishevel her," Jacen smirked while his eyes feasted upon her. He leaned in as close as possible, dropping his voice to a whisper, "Makes you wonder as collected as she is if my lovely ice queen has ever been truly fucked. I suppose I'll find out soon."

As Anora's coronation came to an end, she called forth the heroes of the Blight, giving commendations to Alistair as well as Jacen's companions who'd risked so much to bring the Blight to an end. She offered the Dwarves aid against the darkspawn still remaining in the Deep Roads. She granted The Hinterlands to the Dalish for their service to Ferelden. Jacen's heart swelled with pride at the depths of compassion his lovely queen exhibited for her subjects.

Soon the seneschal ushered him and Fergus forward to stand before her. A radiant smile graced her face as a subtle pink blush rosied her cheeks. Her blue eyes glittered as she once again addressed the crowd, "Fergus Cousland, please step forward. Discovering that you are indeed alive and not dead at Ostagar was a great relief. It gives me great pleasure to properly restore the Highever lands to you and your family... in addition to the Amaranthine arling that was Arl Howe's. I hereby swear you in as Teyrn Fergus Cousland. May you proudly walk in the footsteps and rule over your teyrnir as wisely as your father, the late Teyrn Bryce Cousland."

"Your Majesty... I would like to give Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens," he replied as he bowed before her.

"An excellent point, Teyrn Fergus," She inclined her head gracefully. "I think that would be fitting. Let all know that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them."

Fergus then knelt before her, "I promise that I, Teyrn Fergus Cousland, will be faithful to Queen and country in matters of life, limb, and earthly honor. Never will I bear arms against her or her heirs. So I say in the sight of the Maker."

Now my friends, the time has come to celebrate the one responsible for our victory. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there is one in particular who deserves a special commendation. The one who led the charge against the archdemon and killed it remains with us still; an inspiration to all he saved that day. Ladies and gentlemen, may I formally present my betrothed, who will soon be your king. Jacen Cousland, it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it is only appropriate that I return the favor. As a reward and as an engagement present, I offer you a boon of your choice." Her smile was radiant, filling Jacen with the desire to carry her off to somewhere private.

He grinned as all sorts of wicked thoughts raced through his head. He could hear Fergus's guffaw, struggling to maintain a neutral face. Kneeling before her respectfully, "It would give me great pleasure to serve you and the crown as well as Ferelden, my lady."

Her lips twitched slightly before she pursed them, "I suspect you'll have ample opportunity to do that as my consort, in whatever capacity you desire." She shook her head slightly, giving a mock frown followed by a small chuckle. "Have you decided on your plans? I assume that, as Chancellor, you'll be remaining in Denerim?"

Moving to his feet, he winked at her playfully, "I will, indeed. I have a feeling that at least for a while you'll need my help to restore our great city as well as our country."

Anora smiled, "I believe you are no doubt correct, Jacen. Having you near at hand will be a great relief."

"I am nothing if but attentive," he assured her. "I am at your service."

"Now, there is a group of eager Fereldan citizens waiting outside to get a look at their hero. I suggest you make a brief appearance before they storm the gate." She giggled softly, "Just tell the guard at the door when you are ready."

"Then I shall do so as soon as I speak to a few people here, my lady. I suppose there wouldn't be any chance of convincing you to make that appearance with me, would there?" Jacen flashed a puppy dog face as he poured on the charm.

Anora cocked an eyebrow at him as she figured out his game. "I think they'd much rather see just you, though," she parried, proving she could resist him.

"I don't know about that. I'm sure our people would be delighted to catch a glimpse of you, especially since you've been newly coronated as the sole ruling sovereign, but if that is your decision then I shall go without you. I've faced down an archdemon, but admittedly facing a screaming mob is much scarier," he skillfully cajoled.

"Do you truly want me to accompany you, Jacen?"

"Yes," he honestly replied, "I would like that."

"Then I shall, but don't think you will always get your way," she sternly replied. "Give me a few minutes to speak to the chamberlain and seneschal."

"Of course," Jacen smiled. He knew she'd be a tough nut to crack, but he was sure it wouldn't prove to be impossible. Taking his leave of her, he greeted friends, families, well wishers and companions. He could feel her eyes upon him occasionally as he made with rounds. He captivated them all with an easy-going grace. The brotherly camaraderie between him and Alistair shone brighter than any star. They laughed, bantering jovially.

"There is one thing I'm curious about, my friend," Alistair cocked an eyebrow. "How is it that you're still alive?"

Jacen laughed, "I'm just that damn good." He wasn't sure if he should confess Morrigan's part in saving him. "Seriously, though, between you, me and the wall, it was Morrigan. She saved me."

A confused look crossed Alistair's face, "How?"

"It's complicated, but I found out why Flemeth sent her with us. Morrigan's purpose was to conceive a child with the soul of an Old God. So one sex ritual later, I was able to live to tell the tale," he confessed.

A grimace crossed Alistair's face, "Better you than me. I think I'd rather be killed first."

"Thing is, she knew what Riordan was going to tell us before we did. I'm sure I'll have to answer for this at some point; if not from Weisshaupt then from Anora, if she ever finds out. That actually scares the piss out of me."

"Like I said… better you than me," Alistair chuckled. "Speaking of Morrigan, do you know where she went? As far as what I've heard, she disappeared right after the battle… no goodbyes or anything."

"Just as she said she would," Jacen shrugged. "She doesn't want to be found. I see no reason to track her down, either."

"Very dramatic," Alistair replied. "I don't suppose she'd be easy to find either way. Well, I see Eamon's motioning at me. He's still not happy how things went down."

"I didn't imagine he would be, but has he ever stopped to consider your happiness? I'll let you see to him. I have a crowd to greet, which reminds me. If I have to face that mob, you should too." Jacen walked away, stopping beside Fergus to give him a fond hug. It pleased him that Highever had been restored to Fergus. Then he headed for the door. Anora joined him moments later as he spoke to the guard. "So what do they expect of me?"

"Just put in an appearance, so I understand it. The people just want to see their hero in person," the guard replied. "I'm supposed to take you to your escort... full brigade, their armor all shined up and everything. They're really honored to be guarding you, let me tell you."

"I'm glad there'll be a full brigade. Queen Anora is accompanying me. Hmmm… now where is Alistair?" Jacen glanced back down the length of the hall. He frowned, his brow furrowing. His best friend and fellow Warden was nowhere to be seen. With a scoff, he shook his head, "Damn that Eamon. Let's go."

Jacen placed his hand on the small of Anora's back, guiding her along as they followed the guard. After meeting their escort, they made their way out of the palace to where the crowd of eager Fereldans awaited to catch a glimpse of their Hero. Many gasps of wonder and excitement came from the crowd as Anora waved to the crowd. She smiled brightly, accepting a few roses from the assembled citizens.

Once the crowd began to thin, Jacen and Anora retreated back into the palace, returning to the Landsmeet Chamber where her coronation had taken place. "What plans have you for the rest of the day, my lady?" Jacen asked, figuring she had matters of state to deal with.

"I have a few meetings to attend, but I shall be free later if you wish to dine with me. There is much we must speak of. I've been told that preparations are underway for our wedding. It will only be a matter of weeks. Are you nervous?"

Jacen licked his lips, "Actually, I am… perhaps a little," he admitted.

His honesty garnered a smile from her, "Good. I feel the same. I must confess, you are rather intimidating, after all."

He chuckled, "The feeling is mutual, my lady." He once again knelt before her, his hands gingerly spanning her small waist cinched tight in the golden stomacher. "You are a formidable woman." He felt her flinch as he touched her. Unwilling to make her feel uncomfortable, he withdrew his hands. "I imagine we'll get along just fine. I am forever at your service."

Anora smiled, "We will need to speak more of the role you wish to play. As the hero of Ferelden, there are many opportunities, but that can wait. We'll speak more at supper. I believe Fergus would like to spend some time with you."

"That he does," Jacen chuckled. "He mentioned something about a bottle of wine. Truthfully I can't think of a better way to celebrate than getting mildly inebriated with my brother. I'll see you later, my lady."

* * *

Jacen staggered into the private dining room the chamberlain had directed him to. He closed the door behind him, noticing the deep frown on Anora's face as she sat waiting for him. He clutched a bottle in his hand, making his way to the table. "Sorry I'm late. One bottle turned into two which turned into four," he set the bottle on the table in front of him. "Care to join me, beautiful?"

"You're drunk," she hissed. "If you think I'm going to put up with a drunken fool for a husband, then you are in for a rude awakening. I suggest you find somewhere to sober up. We'll speak first thing tomorrow morning."

Her tone hit him like a ton of bricks, bringing about a sobering effect. He set the bottle aside, "My lady, I haven't drank like this in years. I'm sorry if my drunkenness offends your sensibilities, but I think it's well deserved after what I've been through. I thank you, however, for sending soldiers out to find Fergus. I had planned on telling you earlier how much knowing that he's alive and well means to me, but with your coronation and the celebration, it slipped my mind."

"You are very welcome, Jacen, but that still doesn't excuse your behavior. I expected you an hour ago, sober and dressed," her eyes flashed indignantly.

"And again I apologize, Anora. I happen to think that celebrating with Fergus was justified. You should be thankful we didn't add whoring to the drinking. Now shall we dine?" He lifted the linen napkin from the holder and spread it across his lap. He snapped his fingers at the servant who'd brought their meal, calling for it to be served. A trencher each of roast chicken, vegetables in cream sauce, and candied yams was placed before them both. Jacen dug with gusto, hoping that food on his stomach would neutralize a good portion of the wine in his system.

"I would hope you wouldn't be out whoring," she scoffed tersely. "Cailan had his women on the side. He tried to keep it discreet, but I always knew about them. I'd rather not have another husband whose eyes lie in another direction."

Jacen laughed, "Truthfully, I don't see where you have much to worry about. Before this Blight happened, it had been a few years since I last took a woman to my bed. After I sired my eighth bastard child on an eighth elven wench, my father made it very clear to me that I should find another avenue in which to sate my lust. So I did. I won't lie about my sexuality. I have nothing to hide. To quote a good friend of mine, 'I regret far more than the men and women that I've taken to my bed.' After Ostagar, I met Leliana, the woman who refused to leave my side during my recovery. I know you are aware of her, but you may not be aware that she and I have ended things. We spoke after the celebration. We both decided it would be for the best. I do want to make it clear I have no intention of spending the rest of my life as a eunuch."

"Somehow it doesn't surprise me that you have fathered these bastard children. My advisors have already made it clear that we would have to secure the succession since Cailan and I did not. I can't say that I am very fond of that idea, but for the sake of producing an heir, I will have to do what must be done," Anora's blue eyes turned icy cold. "Many have questioned whether or not I am barren since Cailan and I did not have a child together. I'm not one for airing dirty laundry, but perhaps I could have conceived if Cailan had come to my bed more than he did."

"Don't think of it as a punishment, my lady. I promise it'll be anything but that. I'll take care of you. I'll do whatever it takes to make it pleasurable for you. That's what really matters." Jacen replied, "I don't know what kind of intimate relationship you had with him when he did come to your bed, but it seems to me that whatever it was, it was not to your liking. Intimacy isn't a sin. It's a gift to be cherished. You are a goddess to be worshipped. All I ask is that you trust me."

"Cailan promised something similar, but all he ever did was mount me, sweat all over me for a few teeth-gritting minutes then roll over to go to sleep. He would wake up a few hours later, leave the bed and visit one of his mistresses. So perhaps you will forgive me for being skeptical."

Jacen shook his head, "He did you a great disservice. Believe me when I say I am not like that. I enjoy spending hours on the build-up. There was a time when I exhausted the women I took to my bed performing oral sex alone. It's never been a matter of whether I reached my peak, but that I would be able to give the woman as many orgasms as possible. To be blunt, getting my cock inside her was always secondary. If you can't trust my words, feel free to ask Leliana. I'm sure she'd be willing to tell you anything you wish to know without being shy about it. Or you could simply allow me to give you a demonstration."

Anora's cheeks flooded with a pink tinge, "That won't be necessary."

"Talking to Leli or the demonstration," he replied as he lifted the bottle of wine to his lips for another long swig.

"Both," she frowned, shooting down his hopes.

"Your loss, my lady," he quipped before tipping the bottle back. He drained the remainder of the wine before turning his attention back to his meal. "It's occurred to me that you should be celebrating being queen again. It should be a joyous occasion. No one would fault you for getting a little wild. You don't have to be so uptight and dignified all the time. Let your hair down for once in your life."

"I am not uptight. Furthermore, just because I don't get belligerently drunk doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun. This dinner was my idea to celebrate my coronation and our impending nuptials, but you had to ruin it by showing up late and drunk, so don't talk to me about being dignified," she retorted.

"Honey, you're wound so tight I'm surprised you don't squeak when you walk. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I've lost my appetite," Jacen's voice dropped to a low growl as he threw down his napkin and stood up. He strode to the door, his hand on the curved handle when the sobering sound of glass smashing near his head stopped him dead in his tracks. Surprise lingered on his face as he turned back to face Anora.

She stood beside the chair he'd been sitting in, her hand gripping the high back of it. "Queens do not squeak. Furthermore, Jacen, I can call off our impending nuptials if I see fit. Just because you saved this country does not mean you rule the roost. Now you get back here. Sit down. And by the Maker, stop behaving like a spoiled child. I had one husband who played that card far too often. I'll be damned if I put up with another."

He blinked at her, his jaw going slack. Then a groan slipped from his throat as his cock jerked to full hard life within his pants. His feet moved of their own volition. He found himself standing before her, looking down into her flashing blue eyes. Then with a flick of his wrist, he parted the top of her dress, tearing open the snaps that held it closed from the high neckline to the golden stomacher. Squeezing her rounded ass with one big hand, he gazed for a long moment into her eyes. Anora caught her breath. Then his wide mouth was pressed to her lips, his tongue caressing hers with an agonizing slowness. Every part of his body tingled with sensation. His cock pressed against her hip, hard and commanding, its head nudging at her dress. He parted from her, his handsome face serious, "At your service."

Anora pushed against his chest, a scared doe expression on her lovely face. But that was moments before Jacen pulled her back into his embrace, tasting her lips once again. The warmth of her body seeped into his like mulled wine on a chill winter's night. He could feel the rapid pounding of her heart as she turned her body slightly, tentatively pressing one breast into his chest. His hands roamed, skimming her ribs, under her arm then slid up to caress the side of her breast. She jerked out of the embrace, glaring up into his eyes. "I won't be pawed at like some servant girl."

"Don't protest so much, my queen. And don't provoke the beast. You wanted my attention. You have it, but we'll play by my rules." He seized her waist with one arm and the next thing she knew, she found herself trapped between the hardness of his body and the wall. His long, tapered fingers tore at the top of her gown, separating it from her body. Following it was her breast band, thrown carelessly to the floor. Her breasts spilled out. She gasped. He cupped her breasts, his fingers finding her pouting nipples and rolling them in such a way that a deep, mournful longing scorched her from the inside out. He brushed his lips over hers, kissing her with fervent intensity. His tongue traced the contour of her inner lip, very gently, as if he wanted to slowly savor everything she had to offer. Anora moaned a protest as her lips parted. He crushed his mouth on hers, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, until she was breathless and her heart wanted to burst from her chest. She was panting for air when he finally broke the kiss. "I'll see to your every desire, sweet little queen," he purred. His voice was as seductive as his mind-wrecking kiss. His dark amber eyes practically burned with repressed desire. He yanked off the rest of her clothes, leaving her bare-skinned. He crushed his mouth on hers again while he disrobed.

Anora's brain turned blank from his mind-muddying kisses. She was only dimly aware of him placing her upon the rug covered stone floor, straddling her and coaxing her into a full surrender. He grabbed her wrists and secured them above her head. She shivered, feeling so vulnerable. She was completely at his mercy.

With one knee, he pushed her legs open. He wedged himself between her thighs, his cock nudging her nether lips, hard and gloriously large. She felt dizzy all of a sudden. His thick, virile erection felt hot on her fevered skin. His shaft almost reached her belly button. "See this?" he cooed, semi-taunting. "This is how deep I will fuck you." The impact his statement had on her senses ignited a fire within her, "And you will love it," he rasped again, eyes blazing with the fire of possession, "Because from now on, you're mine, my queen."

The heat from his cock burned her skin. Anora squirmed beneath him, unwilling to give up control just yet, "No, Jacen," she protested. She wouldn't give in so easily.

Jacen wouldn't be denied though. Slowly, he kissed her breast, belly, and thighs, in a daze she felt him spread her legs and nuzzle between them. She hissed as she felt his tongue breach her lower lips. He nuzzled and nipped at the curly hair protecting her pussy while sliding his thumb upward through her damp folds, spreading them. She caught her breath as his other thumb joined the first; then, together, they spread her lips apart. Jacen stared for a moment, licking his lips, and then leaned forward to bestow the sweetest of kisses to her most sensitive spot.

She moaned, caught between watching him and simply falling back to enjoy the sensation. She opted for the former and saw his impish glance toward her. Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue from ass to clit. Her hips rocked into the motion of their own accord, pressing in when he did it again. And again, "Jacen!"

He took that as a sign and finally took her clit between his lips and sucked. She groaned, her thighs trying to close on the sensation. He caught them, then slid his hands nearly to her knees and pressed them back almost to her chest. He pulled back and licked again. Laving her. Wetting her. She clutched her hands into the rug fibers above her head. Her eyes had fallen closed somewhere along the way, and she could only feel the hot press of his tongue as it danced over her sensitive skin.

When he settled in to seriously suck her clit, she writhed beneath him, unable to help the churning of her hips as she scrambled for climax. Almost there. So good! Almost there!

"Ahhh!" she screamed, body clenching as molten pleasure shot from her pussy through the rest of her body.

"Delicious, honey," Jacen purred, rubbing his chin through her pulsing sex, watching her as she came down. He brought his hand up dripping with her juices and encouraged her to taste herself. Amazed at her own daring, she was pleasantly surprised at the taste, "Mmmm," she sighed, settling her sated body onto the rug. At least, she thought she was sated. Jacen's fingers toyed at her entrance, petting the lips apart as he extended his tongue so that just the tip nudged her clit. She squirmed. He chuckled, pushing in just a bit more to caress her inner walls. She groaned when he pressed in further, two fingers exploring. She was so wet now that his fingers slipped easily into her, two this time, as his tongue gently probed my engorged clit, flicking it lightly, teasing it whist his fingers massaged deep within her, making her cry out in amazed rapture when the first spasm rolled over her and she felt her inner muscles clench and squeeze around his skilled fingers. She cried out when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. He purred and rubbed it again, the flat of his tongue against her clit. By the Maker, he was devouring her! She churned, she moaned, driven by the fingers that stretched her and the tongue that lashed her. The fingers matched her rocking rhythm, and two became three, and she felt almost full. Another rocking climax seized her body; she happily melted into the rug.

Jacen wasn't done with her, though. It was just the beginning for him as he moved and thrust into her drenched pussy. She threw her head backward, crying. His cock speared her open, forcing her to accept him whole, plowing her down until he hit her cervix, slamming himself balls deep. The friction caused by his veined shaft grinding against her inner walls made morsels of pleasure explode inside her burning heat. The sensation was too wicked for words. He fucked her with sheer savagery, as if he wanted to show her who was the master of her body. He leaned down, his skin grazing against hers. He plastered his lips on hers, his tongue plundering her mouth the way his cock was plundering her pussy.

She cried out, unable to do anything but surrender. He growled as her cunt made a wet sucking sound from the way he ravaged her. The ecstasy clawed her senses in its tight grip. She was trapped in the wake of an impending storm of pleasure. Her heart pounded, her lungs wanted to burst from her chest. Sweet cascades of ecstasy dragged her into a peak, palpitating in rapid motion into the final rapture.

She exploded.

Anora came so hard she thought she was dying. Her body convulsed. The world darkened from her view for long seconds. Her cries were muffled by his kisses.

He kept pounding into her while she drowned in pure ecstasy until he finally convulsed, his roar almost feral as he emptied his seed deep inside her. His cock spasmed again and again until he was spent.

When he was able to collect himself, Jacen smiled. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. That was the most exquisite thing she had ever experienced, "What did you do to me?"

His smiled predatorily, "I think I've proven my point, Anora."


	10. Goddess of the Morning

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything…. I'm just exploring the possibilities.**

**A/N: A companion piece to "Rose Amongst the Brambles" featuring Prince Consort Jacen Cousland and Queen Anora, takes place a few months after their wedding. Rated MATURE for content.**

**GODDESS OF THE MORNING**

The morning was brisk, and the sun was only just rising. Jacen looked up from his pillow at the pale rays streaming through the shutters. Then he let his head fall back down on the bed. Next to him lay a pile of curves and shadowy blankets, a body lost in the soft furs. He reached out a hand. With care, he pulled down the coverings. Exposed was a shoulder, pale, satiny and gorgeous. He lost his breath for a moment, staring at the perfection of the skin, the smooth surface.

Then he pulled down more of the blanket. And more of her was laid bare for his eyes. The blonde goddess-like tresses curled around her face. Her long lashes swept against her cheeks. And her lips, a paler shade of red than a rose, lay slightly apart, showing the pink of her tongue within. He sighed and got up on his elbow. She was irresistible, this woman with whom he shared a bed. It was like this that he loved her best… unadorned, natural, and oh so beautiful.

He reached out a hand and rested his fingertips on her shoulder. She was turned facing him, laying on her side, lost deep in her dreams. As it came to rest on her skin, he studied his hand. His nails were trimmed, but his fingers were rough, calloused from his endless sword training. Small scars marred the thick, long fingers. Blond body hair curled over the back of his hand, up his arm, covering almost all of his body.

Next to him, Anora was indeed a goddess, pure and perfect, flawless.

Gently he began to stroke her skin with the flat of his fingers, sighing as her skin immediately pricked up with gooseflesh. Another thing he loved about her; she could never hide something she liked from him. Always her body betrayed her desires, sometimes before she ever knew about them. He'd relied on that so many times to get him out of the few small problems they'd had.

How could she stay angry at him when all he had to do was kiss her for her to melt and weaken to his will?

She couldn't. And even now, in her sleep, she was at his whimsy.

Jacen dragged his fingers over the curve of her arm, up her shoulder again, then down her collarbone. Then, he peeled back more of the blanket from her body. And now, he could see her breasts.

Tucked beneath her slender arm, her breasts were rounded and high, perky breasts; not the breasts of a mother, not yet. He didn't have to think hard to imagine what she would look like when she was full of his child. That would hopefully come soon enough. She was perfect, after all. She would be still after mothering his children. But for now, it was times like these that he loved her for what she was, goddess of the morning.

Carefully, he moved his fingertips to her breasts, playing over the roundness and the curve of her cleavage. Then, more boldly, he reached under her arm and gently plucked one out into his palm. He weighed it, feeling the nipple against his hand. As he rubbed over it, it stiffened, becoming hard. And he smiled. He lowered his head to her breast, lifting it up in his hand, up to his mouth. And he delighted in hearing her gasp as he began to suckle her entire areola. She did not put her hands in his hair. She did not move to give him more room.

Jacen looked up into her face. Anora opened her eyes, her dark blue gaze making him dizzy. And she smiled at him again, her lips apart. He could see the glistening tip of her tongue.

Again he lowered his mouth to her breast. This time, his teeth nipped playfully at her darker breast flesh. She winced but did not stop him.

She knew him, and he knew her. Even she could not deny how well he used her desires against her.

Jacen began to lick up her breast, towards her neck. But as he did this, his hand pulled the blankets lower on her body. Her side, her waist, her hip then her leg, all became exposed in the slowly warming morning sun. He ran his hand up the length of her body, reveling in the smoothness of her skin beneath his rough fingers.

Then he moved closer to her, lining his body with hers. His hand cupped her round face, and he bent to kiss her.

"Good morning," he said, nuzzling her with his nose. Anora smiled against his mouth and closed her eyes again.

Then his hand ran down again, this time stopping at her curved hip. He waited only a moment, then he let his hand slide down to her backside. Her bottom was rounded out, one cheek cupped by his hand as his mouth pulled at hers. He scooted her closer to his body, pulling her by the buttock in his hand and slipping her along the small space between them.

Now their bodies were close, and he could feel her stomach flat and soft against his hardened abdomen.

That was how they were, how they were matched and how they fit. Where he was roughened, she was smooth. Where he was scarred, she was flawless. And where he was hard, she was soft.

Now his hand came around to her front. His tongue distracted her as he slipped his fingers over her mons, between her thighs, and against her sex. She was hot, wet, and soft, as he knew she would be. Her chubby lips parted easily under his fingers, and he stroked her fires. Her clitoris was a bud now, almost trembling noticeably as he touched and teased at it. Her inner lips, slippery and thin, quivered as he passed them and entered her with two fingers.

She was tight, she never seemed to change. And he loved her for it. As he stretched her around his fingers, and began to drag in and out of her, she moaned into his mouth.

He loved how easy it was to get her ready. She was primed for his attentions, and the way her body awoke to his touch convinced him constantly that she had, indeed, been made just for him.

Now he moved his hand away from her channel, up over the outside of her thigh. He stroked her there, gently, then lifted her leg, placing it over his body. She was spread now, and she bucked against him suggestively.

But there was nothing left to suggest. She had to know she would get what she wanted, now.

He reached down and held himself. The feel of his own fingers over his thick shaft made him shiver, and he began to jerk himself quickly. He wanted to be hard when he entered her, completely, utterly rigid and hard. And soon, he was. With careful precision he rubbed his taut-skinned cockhead against her swollen folds. Teasing her this way caused her to bite hungrily at his lips. Her hand went around him and played in his hair, curling and uncurling at the back of his neck.

Then he released himself and pushed into her warm slit. She was so wet, he slid within easily. As she enveloped him with her tightness, he pushed deeper and deeper. Soon, he was buried in the warm sweetness of her sex. Even the hilt of him was within her, and she was pressed tightly to his groin.

For several moments, they breathed each other's breath, their mouths open, blissfully aware of this complete union they were sharing. They did not kiss, they did not writhe. They reveled in the moment that said to them, "we are one".

The moment extended and became something else, something sweeter, lustier. He pushed against her body, slowly. And she pushed back. Her fingers pulled at his hair. And he reached up and entwined his hand in her blonde locks in return.

Then they began to fuck.

Lying on their sides, facing each other, their bodies heated quickly, and soon, they were covered with a veneer of sweat. Their limbs were slippery with it now. He reached a hand down her back, cupping her ass again and pulling her harder against him. As his strong fingers dug into her ass cheek, she squealed out and tilted her head back and away from his kissing lips.

Now his mouth went to her neck, and without hesitation, he began to gnaw on her skin. He pulled at it with his teeth, nipping and biting mercilessly. Her nails raked over his shoulder, then across his back. Her leg, snaked around his waist and ass, clenched and pulled him tighter to her body.

She wanted him deeper. And he knew it.

At last, he pushed at her, rolling her onto her back. Now he was above her, towering over her. He rose up on his hips, pushing himself into her, and pushing her into the bed. With a hand on either side of her hair, he glared lustily down into her face.

And he fucked her deeply, hard.

The bed began to bounce. Now she lifted both legs up around his waist. Supporting himself on one hand, he put his other to his side, stroking along the outside of her thigh. He could feel her tender muscles beneath her skin as she struggled to cling to him. As he looked down, her round breasts were bouncing with the vigor of his movements.

Anora never looked so more perfect than just now, at this moment. Her sweet round and usually gentle face was twisted now in a wicked and delicious grimace. She winced with his every thrust, feeling him swelling inside her and bouncing against the bottom of her cervix. Her pouty lips were stretched, as much as his cock was stretching her warm channel. And she groaned and cried out in a song he knew and loved so well. She would cum soon, he knew. He would be hard put to hold himself back. But for her, he would. He always did.

Jacen pulled his knees up beneath himself, and without withdrawing from her wet depths, he reached behind his body and grabbed each of her legs. He pulled at them, bringing them forward until her knees were on her chest.

She squealed, almost indignantly. But she settled as he continued to thrust into her. From this position, he could drag the ridged head of his cock along the top of her channel. It would stimulate her more than she was used to.

And soon, she proved him right.

He could feel her struggling now, trying to meet his hips even though he had her pinned almost to the point of immobility. Harder into her he thrust. Faster. Deeper.

At last, she lost control. The perfection that was she was broken, and she screamed in pleasure. He could feel her tightening around his shaft, he felt her milking him uncontrollably. Quickly he lowered her legs, laying himself heavily across her writhing body. She struggled beneath him, her legs wrapping around the backs of his thighs and clinging to him, keeping him as deep inside as she could.

He did not stop fucking her. He pushed and pushed, guiding by her moving hips in speed and depth.

At last, she ceased to move. And he lifted up slightly, to look into her eyes. "I love you," he whispered.

He put his lips to hers, kissing at her softly. Now it was his turn.

Slowly he began to move within her again. Her body, spent, did not object. But her tight tunnel sucked at him, quivering in the last throes of her orgasm. She closed her eyes, panting.

He lifted himself up again on one hand. With his free hand, he caressed her breasts. It felt so good to squeeze them, to play with their round perfection. The nipples were so dark, and now that she was satiated, they were soft, round and spread out.

Irresistible.

He bent his body and pulled one breast up with his hand until the nipple barely touched his mouth. His tongue flicked out over it, licking it quickly. The feel of her against his tongue caused his cock to throb back to life.

He was fully erect again, and this time, it was his turn.

He let go of the breast and looked at her. Then he lay over her again, his chest over hers, his chin tucked into the crook of her neck. She lifted her legs back around him, locking her ankles together over his ass. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

She knew what was coming, and she intended to hold on tight.

Now, at last, he let himself go. Primal and instinctive, he began to pound into her harder than before. The bed rocked and creaked as he bounced over her body, grunting in her ear.

She moaned lightly beneath his larger weight, but did nothing to push him off or object. And into the mattress he rode her. Up and down went his hips, with nothing of the finesse he had given her before. In and out slid his thickened cock, thrusting and grinding animalistic within her.

And then, he was climaxing; shooting his seed up inside her walls, coating the innards of her womb with his release. He pushed deep into her, knowing it likely hurt her to take him so deeply, but knowing he couldn't stop, not after all of this. For several more moments, he fucked her, spewing out until he was dry.

Then, he lay on her, limp and exhausted.

She nudged him gently and he didn't object, rolling onto his side. But he took her with him, keeping their bodies tightly locked together until necessity forced them to face the busy day.

**THE END**


End file.
